Twins
by Serit
Summary: What if Malcolm Reed had a twin brother he‑‑and his parents‑‑didn't know about? An alien bazaar like Rigel X is life-changing for Reed and Tucker. Basically, this is my excuse for twice as much Malcolm in a fic!
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Twins, 1/10?, pre-slash, Tu/R, Tu/OC, T+.  
AUTHOR: Serit.  
PAIRING/S: Tucker/Reed, Tucker/original character.  
RATING: T+; Teen plus readers.  
WARNING/S: References to child abuse, prostitution, non-consensual sex, violent molestation.  
SUMMARY: What if Malcolm Reed had a twin brother he‑‑and his parents‑‑didn't know about? An alien bazaar like Rigel X ("Broken Bow") is life-changing for Reed and Tucker. Basically, this is my excuse for twice as much Malcolm (and Dominic!) in a fic (or episode).  
DISCLAIMER: The names of all characters contained herein are the property of the Estate of Gene Roddenberry, Paramount Pictures Corp., Viacom, CBS, and the actors who portrayed them. No money is being made; no infringements of these copyrights are intended.

* * *

Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker liked visiting alien markets. The aliens selling and buying items were amazing or just plain frightening. The items being bought and sold were just as amazing or frightening, sometimes both at once. Saiph was a brown dwarf star near Rigel, where they began their mission over a year ago. The officers were on Saiph III, a barren, cold, and rocky planet with its trade centers underground. The ship's chef had asked Captain Archer to find a new food, preferably a fruit or vegetable, that Doctor Phlox could test and declare safe for Humans, Vulcans, and Denobulans, and would stay fresh in refrigeration or stasis.

The officers arrived at the space port, deposited at the trade center's Assay Office bars of refined metals gathered from space dust and chondrite asteroids, and divided into three teams. Captain Archer, Lieutenant Reed, and Ensign Sato scanned foodstuffs at booths and shops and looked for something that fitted Chef's criteria and Phlox's guidelines. Commander Tucker and Ensign Cutler used bioscanners and translators, although Cutler did most of the talking. Doctor Phlox and Sub-Commander T'Pol were the least-noticed of all the officers.

Tucker and Cutler had turned down an aisle between tables and booths. They walked a few yards, and Tucker saw a brutal fight going on in a cordoned-off area a meter or so ahead. Two Orion and three Nausicaan males were beating and hacking a compact and lean being with shock-whips and alien machetes. They alternated between whipping him, slashing his body, and trying to cut off his loose drawstring trousers, his only garment. A crowd had gathered to watch, but Tucker was tall enough to see over everyone else. The slender humanoid had auburn-brown hair and blood-and bruise-covered pale ivory skin. He was very muscular, very thin, and hampered by a choke-chain collar around his neck and chain leash bolted to the wall. Wide, bloody bands of skin on his wrists and ankles suggested that he'd been in shackles for a while. Two and three bands of tattoos in black, blue, and purple circled his upper arms, but four deep slashes had been cut through them on each arm. The being turned, and Tucker had a clear view of his face. He saw red and waded into the fray.  
*****

Tucker didn't think twice; the injured and unarmed man chained to the wall looked exactly like his friend, Malcolm Reed; it must be him. He was fighting five larger and armed aliens, and he looked like he was bleeding to death from the wounds he'd already received. Tucker moved into the brawl, distracting some of the aliens. Angry muttering from the crowd suggested that he wouldn't be able to stun all the aliens in the ring and not be shot or attacked himself. Trip pulled his phase pistol, shot the bolt locking the chain to the wall, returned the pistol to its holster, and snapped it closed, so it could not easily be taken from him. Malcolm quickly removed the choke chain collar from his neck, gathered the loose chain, used it like a whip to knock some of his assailants off their feet, and disarmed them quickly. He seized a shock-whip, hit two Nausicaans, and knocked them out.

The officers were at the market for a half hour when their communicators squawked. "Captain Archer, Doctor Phlox! We need help! Commander Tucker is fighting aliens! We're in the large cavern!" Liz Cutler shouted into her communicator; she didn't see who Tucker saw. Reed traced her communicator's locator chip; he and Archer were homing in on her at the same time T'Pol and Phlox also reached her. They met at the edge of some sort of fight ring separated from the crowds by portable metal fence rails; Reed and Archer saw Tucker's spiky blond hair above the fighting aliens and dived into what was fast becoming a brawl. T'Pol called the trade center's security office for assistance; Phlox called his staff to prepare Sickbay in case it would be needed when they returned to the ship. Sato and Cutler stared at the growing angry mob in horror.

By the time Archer, Reed, Phlox, and T'Pol arrived, additional Orion merchants had joined the brawl, and the situation was quickly becoming dangerous. Archer and Reed distracted other aliens, keeping them away from Tucker; they hadn't seen the person he was assisting-yet. The last conscious Nausicaan grabbed the chain in the middle and hauled the injured man closer; he planned to whip him. Tucker yanked the chain out of the Nausicaan's hands, whacked him on the head, and knocked him out.

The trade center's security office sent one Vulcan constable and six Tellarite policemen who ended the brawl. The Tellarites separated everyone else from the original five combatants, their smaller victim, and _Enterprise_'s officers.  
*****

The injured and unarmed man leaned against the wall and held the chain to keep everyone away from him. Tucker approached him, "Malcolm, are you all right?" he asked worriedly, "What the hell happened to you?"

"Trip, I'm right here, I'm fine," Reed said, a meter or so to Tucker's left, but then he turned his head and saw who his friend had spoken to. "Who are you?"

The man who looked like Reed was breathing hard and unevenly. His body shook with barely restrained anger as he glared at the Armoury officer. A moment later, he dropped the chain he held. "Why was I given away?" he shouted angrily, "Why was I thrown away? Why was I the one who was given away, and not you?!" He raised his hands and charged at Reed.

Reed was muscular and a martial arts expert, but his twin, just as muscular, was injured and exhausted. He was reluctant to hurt his lookalike but the lieutenant twisted a blood-slick arm behind the man's back and pushed his chest against the wall. "Who are you, please?" he asked calmly, "Where are you from, and how did you get here?"

"My name is Derek Cane," the twin replied, panting, "From Britain, obviously; Leicestershire. My step-parents were Boomers." Malcolm released him, but stared at him in amazement. "They left me here when I was 18, indentured for fifteen years to an Orion mercenary militia‑‑"

"Who he has dishonored by his treason!" said an Orion merchant.

"I was framed for treason and prevented from proving my innocence!" Cane exclaimed.

"Your freedom is still surrendered to the militia!" the merchant shouted. A Nausicaan fighter staggered over to seize him.

"Not so fast!" Phlox said to the aliens, "If this altercation was the traditional Orion '_rôthdágor_,' the truth-ordeal, then it has ended in a draw."

A male Vulcan constable approached the merchants. "The visitor has stated the situation correctly; the accused did not lose the ordeal." He turned to Archer and T'Pol. "I am Sakal, the senior constable of the Saiph Trade Center; the constables will mediate this dispute."

"The ordeal was interrupted by aliens who ignore our customs!" a second merchant shouted.

"That is false!" Phlox replied hotly, "The soldier's family has come to buy his freedom!"

"I don't think you blokes have enough of the right kind of money to get me out of this mess," Cane whispered; he seemed tired and somehow sad to Malcolm.

Tucker edged around the shifty Nausicaan to lean against the wall near Cane. "I guess the pessimism runs in the family," he said and smiled at Reed. "It depends on what you think the 'right kind of money' is, doesn't it?" he asked his friend's battered twin.

Archer joined the aliens' discussion. "Doctor Phlox is our Medical Officer," he said, "His scanners can determine if the two men are genetically related or not."

Phlox approached Cane. "I'll need a small sample of blood for the analyzer‑‑" he briefly placed the analyzer's collection tip in a gash on his arm, and the device beeped instantly.

"Do you need‑‑" Reed said and held the backs of his hands out.

"No, Lieutenant Reed, I have your medical data," he replied, and joined the uneasy conversation between Archer, the Vulcan constable, and the merchants. "Your ex-soldier is the blood brother of our officer. Will you accept my equipment's results, or do you wish to use‑‑"

"That will not be necessary," Sakal said, "The Constabulary approves or rejects test results. We will accept these as accurate, as long as we can have a copy of the results for our files."

"When we arrived at the space port earlier today," Sub-Commander T'Pol said, "we deposited a number of refined metal bars at the Assay Office‑‑"

"We'll see what you have," the first merchant said, "but I doubt you can afford his blood-price‑‑"

"Considering how much blood he's lost already," Phlox muttered angrily, "you should be thankful that we're paying you for him."

"What do you have to barter?" the second merchant asked disdainfully.

"Titanium, molybdenum, tungsten‑‑" T'Pol said, "‑‑nickel, palladium, platinum‑‑" the Orion merchants tried to hide their interest; "‑‑copper, silver, and gold," she concluded; the Nausicaans didn't hide their dismay at losing their punching bag. "Mister Cane, I suggest you leave Saiph III immediately with your long-lost brother."

"I won't leave without my box," he replied.

"The contents of your box are mine!" the first merchant snarled.

"No; if his price is paid, his box's contents will be returned to him," Sakal said.

"Box? What is in it?" Captain Archer asked.

"It holds my identity records from Earth, some family keepsakes, and a copy of the indenture contract," Cane said. He was cold, had lost a lot of blood, and felt the fatigue sink into his body. His anger about his unjust treatment had dissipated, but the weariness remained. He watched the human Starfleet officers in confusion, with much curiosity, and a small trace of fear. The tall blond man who came to his aid was called 'Trip.' He originally thought the man was just another killer the Nausicaans had hired, but he was astonished when he shot his chain free from the arena wall bolt, and was confused because his expression was desperate and angry at the same time. He lounged against the wall about a meter from him and watched the man he called 'Malcolm,' who watched him intently. Malcolm looked like him‑‑or rather, what he could have looked like if he had not been left far from Earth, in alien controlled space, battered, malnourished, abused, and worked beyond exhaustion.

Cane's appalling physical condition struck a chord in his brother. "Trip, would you please get a med-kit from Ensign Cutler?" he asked his friend, who retrieved the metal case. "My name is Malcolm Reed," he said to Cane, "I think we're brothers."

"Malcolm?" Cane said hesitantly, "my name is Derek." They smiled shyly at each other.

Malcolm cleaned his brother's blood off his hands with sanitizer wipes from the med-kit and reached out a hand to Cane. "Please, Derek, give me your hands, let me bandage some of your injuries," he said quietly. Trip held the kit and passed supplies as Malcolm cleaned, treated, and wrapped bandages over the wide bands of abraded skin on Cane's wrists. "I'm sorry that it's not a professional job," he said, "but we're usually on the receiving end of Doctor Phlox's care."

Cane was surprised by and grateful for any attention that wasn't cruel or painful. "Th‑‑thank you," he mumbled. Unable to stare down or physically challenge another soldier in his current condition, he lowered his gaze and leaned against the wall again. His bruised and bloody body was shivering strongly, but he did his best to conceal that.

Malcolm noticed his distress, however; he unzipped his quilted blue Starfleet expedition jacket and shrugged it off. "Here, put this on," he held out the coat, "you look very cold."

Cane raised his head and stared in confusion at his brother and the jacket he held. "Are‑‑are you giving it to me?" he whispered in disbelief.

"No, not permanently, it's part of my uniform, but I'll let you wear it for now," he replied, "You look very cold, and trauma probably is hitting you about now. When we reach _Enterprise_, I'll give you some of my clothes."

No one had ever given him anything in his life without him begging, haggling, stealing, or selling himself for it‑‑even when he was very young and lived with his mother. He was stunned by his brother's kind gesture and wondered what he'd want in return. "Th‑‑thank you!"

"I don't know why your step-parents said you'd been given away by your real parents," Malcolm said, helping him into the jacket, "I don't think my parents could have given away my sister or me‑‑not willingly, that is." He zipped the jacket closed and turned up the collar around Cane's neck.

"Th‑‑thank you," Cane replied, unsure if he referred to the jacket or the remark. "Y‑‑your coat is warm!" he added in surprise and wrapped his arms across his chest.

Malcolm was shocked but didn't show it. "We've only been here for less than an hour."

Shouts sounded behind Malcolm, and he turned, Cane and Trip looking over his shoulders. Phlox was arguing with the two merchants. "He is seriously injured and must be treated!"

"He must come to the Constables' Office to retrieve his box!"

"They‑‑they're right," Cane said, "I‑‑I have to get it myself." He started to walk towards the arguing people when his legs gave out under him.

Malcolm caught him before his knees hit the solid stone floor. Trip put his hands under Cane's arms to lift him, but he whirled around with his fist raised to strike and nearly lost his balance again. "Whoa! I didn't mean anything by it," Trip said, "I was just helpin' hold you up."

"Don't stand behind me," Cane said distrustfully, "please."

"We will go to the Constables' Office, read the indenture contract, and settle the price for the soldier's release from indenture," said Sakal, the Vulcan constable.  
*****

Malcolm grasped Cane's elbows and held him up. "I‑‑I have to be there in person to retrieve my box. If I'm not, the merchants could force your friends to give them the contents," the injured man avoided looking Reed in the eye.

"I don't think they could force Captain Archer to do anything he doesn't want to do, and they definitely couldn't force T'Pol or Phlox," Malcolm said.

"I don't know if I'll be able to get to the Constables' Office on my own."

"I'll help you; put your arm about my waist," Malcolm said. "You can lean on me as much as you need to."

Derek seemed wary. "All right," he said and hesitantly put his right arm around his brother's waist. He tensed when the officer wrapped his left arm around his waist.

"I'm sorry," Malcolm said quickly, "I should have asked if you have any fractured or broken bones. If you're in great pain, we can ask Doctor Phlox for an analgesic."

"I probably have some broken bones," he replied, "they thought I'd lose the ordeal. I was accused of treason, which has only two penalties: immediate execution or slavery. The trainers took great pride training me for my life in slavery at the blockhouse."

"My god," Malcolm murmured, "how long were you there?"

"Two or three weeks, maybe; I was a little confused by the end of it."

"Why?" Trip asked, "I mean, why were you accused of treason?"

"I was accused of the theft of classified information," he replied. "Many mercenaries were jealous of my rapid advance in the militia. All were angry about my disapproval of the petty crimes they commit. Orion mercenaries are bullies."  
*****

Derek and Malcolm did not have to walk far to reach the Constables' Office. Three Vulcans assembled everyone in a courtroom-like chamber. Derek sat with his legs on the seat to his left, and Malcolm sat to his right, his arms wrapped about his brother to hold him upright. Phlox cleaned and bandaged his ankle abrasions, then checked Malcolm's work on Derek's wrists.

Cane's safe deposit box was brought into the room; the recorded copy of his indenture contract was located, and his blood-price was calculated. Archer, Phlox, and T'Pol raised objections and haggled over terms; the merchants objected to their terms and tried to introduce the questionable matter of the theft. The Vulcans kept their logically cool heads, defused every possible problem, and rejected the request to investigate the theft while the first case was open. Doctor Phlox's medical data on Reed and tests results for Cane were entered into evidence and copied for the office's records.

The adjudicators verified that Cane did not lose the '_rôthdágor_,' the ordeal battle. The battle for his freedom and release from indenture was a draw because his blood family arrived, disrupted the ordeal, and paid the price of his indenture. The adjudicators officially reprimanded the Orion merchants for cutting 'dishonor marks' into Cane's rank tattoos before the ordeal, because they were supposed to have been safely cut by a physician after he lost.

The Orion merchants threatened dire consequences, were fined for their unlawful scarring of Cane and reprimanded for their threats, the fines for which were taken from the indenture's blood-price. An adjudicator called for Cane to approach and receive their verdict and the contents of his deposit box, now bundled into a small, black polymer bag with a zip closure. Derek and Malcolm reached the mediation table, and he accepted his personal belongings. Malcolm asked if his brother was free to leave Saiph III. The Vulcans permitted his departure and announced that the case was closed. However, they detained the Orion merchants at the Constables' Office because of their flagrant violation of numerous laws.

"Here," Derek whispered shakily, holding the bag in his left hand, "put this someplace safe for me, will you?" He started to fall to the floor, and Trip darted forward to catch him again. The former mercenary did not object; he was unconscious.

Malcolm stuffed the bag into a pocket on his uniform, zipped it, and gathered Derek into his arms. "Mal, you're not gonna carry him, are you?" Trip asked in disbelief, "You'll get hurt!"

"Trip, I'll carry him," he replied; the edge in his voice indicated the matter was closed to discussion.

Sakal the Vulcan and a group of Tellarite policemen escorted the Starfleet officers through the market to the space port. They reached the shuttlepod, and Trip unlocked it for them. Malcolm had piloted the pod down, but his hands were full at the moment. "I'll fly," Archer said, getting into the pilot's seat and starting the preflight checklist.

"We're almost there, Derek," Malcolm whispered, setting him down on a bench seat. "Derek?" he asked, but his injured brother remained silent. "Doctor Phlox?"

Phlox ran the scanner over the injured man. "He's lapsed into a coma," he said a moment later. "Captain, we need to get Mister Reed's brother into Sickbay as soon as possible," he said. Malcolm appeared grief-stricken, as if his world had collapsed.

"On our way," Archer replied, "Is everyone buckled in?" Murmurs came from the other officers. He launched the shuttle and pushed it to the uppermost limits of its specs. The craft was within _Enterprise_ and docked in record time, Archer thought. He went through the post-flight checklist, shut down all systems, and stood to leave the shuttle. T'Pol, Sato, and Cutler already had exited to go through Decon.

Malcolm knelt on the shuttle's deck, whispering to Derek; he seemed to be holding back tears. Archer feared the worst. "Phlox?"

"He's still comatose," the doctor replied, "we need to get him through Decon quickly."

Malcolm unbuckled the safety belts restraining his brother, lifted him in his arms, and stood. "Malcolm-" Trip and Archer both spoke at once. Phlox shook his head at them and walked ahead of the officers to prepare Decon and Sickbay.

"I'll do it," Malcolm replied impassively, tightened his hold on his brother, and stood.

"I'll help you," Trip said and moved around his friend. Malcolm nodded, stepped out of the shuttle, and let his friend guide him. They reached the Decon chamber just as T'Pol, Sato, and Cutler left the showers to enter the women's' locker room. In minutes, Sub-Commander T'Pol and Ensign Cutler were in Sickbay, speaking with Phlox through Decon's speakers.

It seemed that, during the fighting, Tucker, Reed, and Archer had been exposed to potentially dangerous bacteria; Phlox had been exposed later, when he treated Cane. Phlox drew a small sample of blood for T'Pol to run through the shipboard analyzer; she compared it to samples of Reed's blood and synthesized antibiotics and antivirals for Cane and Reed.

Phlox and Malcolm disagreed about staying in Decon and tending to Cane. "Mister Reed, I realize he's your brother," the alien doctor said, "and I understand you didn't know you had a twin brother before today, but I insist that you finish processing through Decon and let me examine him without any interruptions. I'll call you as soon as I've stabilized his condition."

"What about blood? Or‑‑or organ transplants? Or‑‑" Malcolm asked anxiously.

"I can keep him on life support long enough to call you and arrange a biopsy," the doctor said. "Please, you will not help him if you're exhausted; clean up, eat a meal, try to get a little rest."

"Trip, take him out of here," Archer said. The engineer nodded, put his arm around his friend's shoulders, and whispered to him. The two men slowly walked to the Decon shower chamber; Malcolm looked back once before the doors closed.  
*****


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: Twins, 2/10?, Tu/R, Tu/OC, pre-slash, (T+-R) PG-13 to NC-17.  
AUTHOR: Serit.  
PAIRING/S: Tucker/Reed, Tucker/original character.  
RATING: (FFN: T+-R); (W5: PG-13 to NC-17).  
WARNING/S: References to child abuse, prostitution, non-consensual sex, violent molestation.  
SUMMARY: What if Malcolm Reed had a twin brother that he‑‑and his parents‑‑didn't know about? An alien bazaar like Rigel X is life-changing for Reed and Tucker. Basically, this is my excuse for twice as much Malcolm (!) in a fic.  
DISCLAIMER in Chapter 1.

* * *

Phlox called Reed, Tucker, and Archer back to Sickbay two hours later. Malcolm looked through the window into the separate ICU unit. Derek was unconscious on a biobed, and his head was tilted back to accept the tube and hose going into his lungs and stomach. Every bit of his skin not covered by bandaging or the sheet seemed to be covered with sensor disks; quiet beeps and chirps sounded from the life-support equipment. Phlox was cleaning equipment and disposing of used items when the officers arrived.

"What's the prognosis for his recovery?" Archer asked when he arrived.

"I'll get to that in just a moment, Captain," Phlox said. "Mister Reed, I took the liberty of reviewing your personnel file and your medical file; both were clear. According to Starfleet records, you have one sibling, a sister, but there is no mention of a brother, identical or otherwise, living or dead. My test results irrefutably prove that Derek Cane is your biological brother. Why you‑‑and your family‑‑know nothing about your twin brother's existence appears to be a mystery, one that I cannot solve, regrettably. You will have to seek answers on your own, although I can advise you," the doctor smiled comfortingly. "Everything I tell you from this point is privileged information between you, I as your physician, and your brother, when he regains consciousness. Do you understand?"

Reed turned away from the window to face the doctor. "Yes, sir," he replied.

"Considering the circumstances in which we found your brother, you may have Mister Tucker and Captain Archer stay to hear my summary and diagnosis," he said, "or, because of doctor-patient privilege, you may restrict this information to just yourself‑‑and you may change your mind regarding your decisions at any point," he added.

"I know, Doctor Phlox," he said, "I'd like Trip and the Captain to stay." He appeared doubtful and turned to Archer, "unless you don't want to, sir‑‑"

"If you want me to stay, Malcolm, I will," Archer replied.

"Yes, please stay, sir," he said anxiously, took a deep breath, and faced Phlox. "What's Derek's condition now? How badly is he hurt, and when do you think he'll come out of the coma?"

"The coma will help the healing process," Phlox said, "I'm troubled by the results of my examinations I conducted before I began treating Mister Cane. His body reveals numerous injuries and evidence indicating that he was repeatedly tortured and violated within the past two to four weeks, probably by the same mercenaries who accused him of treason and theft."

"Phlox, are you certain?"Archer asked in disbelief.

"Who the hell did it? Can we find out, somehow?" Trip asked in a quiet, cold voice. " 'Cus I'd like to bring some Engineerin' and Armoury staff back there an' have a chat with 'em‑‑"

"Trip, we can't do that," the captain said, although the same thought crossed his mind.

Malcolm gazed through the window that separated him from his brother. The news about the violence done to his brother angered him, but the emotion sank as quickly as it rose. The Orions, Nausicaans, and other mercenary aliens would distrust and attack any outsider, especially one who did not share their beliefs, whether he was Human or not.

"After cleaning him and bandaging his injuries, I pumped his stomach and irrigated his intestines to remove all possible foreign matter," Phlox explained.

"‑‑What kinds of foreign matter?" Trip asked.

"Don't ask, Trip," Malcolm said suddenly, "You don't want to know."

Phlox continued. "‑‑I removed various items attached to and inserted into his body‑‑"

"‑‑You're right, I don' think I wanna know."

"‑‑I set his fractured ribs and broken nose; put IV lines into him, intubated his lungs to prevent collapse, and put a feeding tube down his esophagus to his stomach."

"Doctor Phlox, how long will it take Derek to recover?" Malcolm asked uneasily.

"I‑‑I can't be certain," he replied, "I'm using an antiquated dialysis machine to filter toxins from his blood‑‑what little he has left of his own. I've administered synthetic blood and a pint of your blood from storage. Mister Reed, I need you to donate blood now, to replace what I just used, and I'll clone your blood components as quickly as possible for your brother."

"Whatever you need," he said, "has Derek contracted any alien infections or diseases that you couldn't identify in Decon?"

"No, I ran extensive scans and tests," he replied, "Sub-Commander T'Pol assisted me once she cleared Decon. All infections were identified and eliminated, and all fractures will heal, given time and better nutrition."

"Will he recover?"

"Yes, he'll physically recover, but I can't predict his emotional recovery, however," Phlox replied. "His coma could be caused only by physical factors, or it could be a defense mechanism in response to the trauma he has experienced, or it could be a bit of both conditions."

Conflicting feelings crossed the young man's face swiftly. "I‑‑may I visit him, please? May I please stay with him?" Contradictory emotions rose in his eyes. "Captain Archer, I realize this is a dereliction of my duty‑‑"

"‑‑No, it's not," Archer corrected him quickly, "he's your brother, a member of your family. If you need time off to be with him, take it. Do you want to call your family on Earth now?"

"N‑‑no, not yet, sir," he replied, "I want Derek to be conscious and recuperating before I call my sister‑‑and my parents." He seemed overwhelmed for an instant, but his professionalism reappeared and he looked at Phlox again. "Is there anything else I can do to help Derek recover, besides donating blood?"

"Many things," Phlox said, "If you talk to him when you visit, that will help. Comatose patients can hear; numerous patients have recovered because of family interaction and support. I'll give you more information when you visit tomorrow."

"May I see him today, right now?" Malcolm asked, suddenly anxious.

"His condition needs to stabilize, and I want him to have a quiet night," Phlox replied, "I'd like to draw your blood now, both to replace what's been used and to put into the sequencer."

"Yes, sir," he said calmly. Archer silently pulled Tucker over to the ICU window to give Phlox and Malcolm privacy.

Phlox placed medical equipment on a wheeled cart; Malcolm sat quietly. "Drink plenty of fluids, get a good night's sleep," the doctor reminded the young man once he was finished, "and avoid drinking alcoholic beverages‑‑I will not be held responsible for your bad influence, Commander."

"Doc, you know I wouldn' do somethin' like that at a time like this," Trip said.

"Could I please see Derek now, just for a moment? Please?" Malcolm asked.

Seeing the young man's bereft expression, Phlox gave in, "All right, I'll let you see him for a moment‑‑only for a moment," he added.

Malcolm carefully held Cane's thin, bruised hand in his own. "Hello, Derek, I'm Malcolm, your brother," he said, leaning over him. "You're aboard _Enterprise_; you're in Sickbay, and you're safe here. I'll look after you for as long as you need me until you've recovered. I'm glad we found you, and I'm glad you're my brother. I'll visit you tomorrow, and I'll be here when you wake up. Get well soon, Derek; good night," he ended, brushed his brother's hair off his face, and lightly kissed his brow.

Archer and Tucker could not hear what Malcolm said to his comatose brother, but Phlox did and was pleased. He knew that Malcolm's loyalty to his friends and dedication to duty would be necessary for Derek's recovery and well-being. Malcolm patted his brother's hand and left ICU. He appeared tired and lonely to Tucker and Archer. "Why don't you get a bite to eat, Mister Reed, and a good night's sleep," Phlox said quietly.

"Phlox, is there any way Derek Cane could be some kind of‑‑of manufactured clone, or altered alien, or anything like that?" Archer asked; Malcolm appeared stunned and panic-stricken by the question.

"No, captain, I already made sure, including verifying unique physiological conditions," replied the doctor. "Mister Cane has the same allergies as Mister Reed, and in fact, the detailed genetic assessment indicates they are monoamniotic, monochorionic, monozygotic twins. Derek Cane is very definitely Malcolm Reed's twin brother, and I would stake my credibility as a physician on my findings."

"What does that 'mono-mono-mono whatsis' mean?" Trip asked.

"They developed in the same placenta, same amniotic sac, and have the same appearance and same sex," Phlox replied.

"Well, then‑‑Lieutenant Reed," Archer said; he sighed when the young man snapped to attention. "Malcolm," he said more gently, "I want you and Trip to have breakfast with me tomorrow, at 0700 hours, in the Captain's Mess. Come prepared with personnel lists and schedules, and we'll discuss your time off."

"Yes, sir; thank you," the young Armoury officer replied. He turned to Phlox. "If Derek's condition changes, for any reason, you'll call me, won't you?"

"Of course, you'll be the first to know," the doctor assured him, "Everything will be all right, Mister Reed; you just need to give Mister Cane some time to heal at his body's own speed."

"Mal?" Trip spoke quietly, "Malcolm?" His friend looked absentmindedly at him, "C'mon, let's get some supper in the Mess, an' then we can go over our schedules. Okay?"

"Okay," Malcolm answered and nodded. The engineer put his arm around his friend's shoulder and led him out of Sickbay, leaving Archer with Phlox.  
*****

Trip and Malcolm were Starfleet officers and gentlemen, respected colleagues, and best friends. Each relied on the other for emotional support, and Malcolm needed sympathy at the moment. On their way to the Mess hall, Trip glanced at his friend and realized that Malcolm was too upset, still stunned to find an unknown twin brother; he would be in no shape to socialize with other crewmembers. Trip accompanied Malcolm to his quarters, guided him to his bunk, and then ran to the Mess to pick up dinner. He convinced Malcolm to eat half a sandwich and some soup, guided him to his tiny lavatory to clean up, and reminded him that he still had his brother's 'box bag' in his sleeve pocket. Malcolm hastily opened the gun safe in his room, stowed the bag, and returned to his bed.

Malcolm was shocked to learn that he had an identical twin brother. He sat on the edge of his bed, his distress growing, and he stammered incoherently about his thoughts and feelings. Trip sat opposite him in the desk chair he rolled close to the bed, their knees nearly touching. Malcolm sometimes lowered his head, elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, silent for a moment or many minutes that made Trip wonder if he had dozed off. Malcolm suddenly stopped speaking, or mumbling rather, sat up straight, and stared at his friend with tear-filled eyes. "Trip, he‑‑he's in so much pain," he whispered, "and I‑‑I don't know what I can do to‑‑to help him‑‑" he stopped, gasping repeatedly through parted lips, unable to finish his thought. His whole body began shaking, as if all of his long-suppressed emotions were about to explode, and Trip saw one tear begin to slide down his friend's cheek.

Trip pushed the chair away, sat next to Malcolm, and placed an arm around his friend's shoulders. After he considered the day's frightening, appalling events, Malcolm closed his eyes, turned to his only close friend, rested his brow on Trip's shoulder, and silently sobbed for his battered, broken, and unknown brother. The engineer hesitantly wrapped his arms around Malcolm's shoulders; he ached because his friend was suffering so much emotional distress. Trip was surprised when Malcolm's arms wrapped around his waist, embraced him firmly, and his hands gripped his uniform like a drowning man clutching a rope thrown to him.

He felt near tears himself to feel Malcolm's lean and compact body shaking in anguish. "I‑‑I know Derek's in a lotta pain, an' I know you're hurtin' real bad," he said softly, "an' I don' know what to do, b‑‑but you're my frien', my best frien', Mal, an' I wanna help you an' Derek." Feeling Malcolm's grief crashing against him, Trip gave way to his own tears, and lowered his head onto his friend's shoulder. He rubbed Malcolm's back with one hand, without realizing what he was doing. After a time, his other hand began to gently stroke Malcolm's hair. His best friend's tears slowly subsided, he felt Malcolm's incredibly tense muscles relax against him, and Trip held Malcolm in his arms until he fell asleep.  
*****

The two officers had breakfast with Archer the following morning. He told Reed that any reduced time schedule he created would be approved, as long as he didn't sleep overnight in Sickbay. They arranged a schedule which gave Reed large blocks of time to be with his brother ‑‑and a schedule that gave Tucker large blocks of time to be with Reed. When he was in Sickbay, Malcolm focused on his brother; when he was in the Armoury or on the Bridge, he focused on his department, but the mental and physical effort was far more fatiguing than he imagined.

That evening, they had dinner late in the Mess hall. Malcolm picked listlessly at the food on his plate. "Malcolm, you have to eat something," Trip said. His friend continued to cut the slice of meatloaf on his plate into smaller and smaller squares. "Lieutenant Reed, if you don't put some of that meatloaf into your mouth an' chew," he said, "I'm gonna call Doctor Phlox!"

The doctor's name caught his attention. "Phlox? Did Doctor Phlox call for me?" Malcolm said, startled, and pushed back his chair to stand.

"No, he didn't, but if you don't eat somethin' soon, I'm gonna drag you down to Sickbay myself!" the engineer exclaimed, "What are you tryin' to do, calculate its atomic weight?"

"I don't know what I'm doing," he replied, sitting down again.

"Would you please eat something, Malcolm?"

"Yes, sir," he mumbled, eating cold meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

Trip sighed. 'One step forward, two steps back'‑‑that saying described his friendship with Malcolm sometimes. They finished eating and dropped their trays and contents into the Mess's cleaning chute. "Mal? Malcolm, may I stop at your cabin on our way back to our quarters?"

"Sure, Trip," Malcolm replied, "I'm sorry, I've been horrible company today. I don't know why you put up with me," he said as he walked down the corridor towards the turbo-lift.

"I have my reasons," he replied with a wistful smile that his friend missed.

"Come in," he said softly, opening the door to his quarters. It looked as pristine as it did the previous day, except for the wrinkled bedspread. It became wrinkled after Malcolm finally fell asleep in Trip's arms the previous night. He had placed Malcolm atop the spread, removed his boots, and laid next to him after removing his own boots, both still dressed in their uniforms. Malcolm went straight for his bed and sat, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, his shoulders weighed down with weariness.

"Mal‑‑Malcolm, I gotta talk with you," the engineer said, pacing nervously.

His friend raised his head. "Stop that, please, Trip; you're making me dizzy."

"I'm sorry, Malcolm; I don' know how to say this," he grabbed the desk chair and pulled it over to sit before him, "an' it's important to me, an'‑‑"

"‑‑And you accused me of prattling once," he said with a smirk, "Just tell me, and it'll be fine."

"I ain' so sure it'll be fine," Trip said, "You have no idea how terrified I was when I saw you chained to that wall yesterday‑‑"

"‑‑But it's all right, Trip, it wasn't me, it was Derek."

"Please, lemme say what I hafta say, please," he mumbled, and looked at his friend with anguish in his eyes.

"What is the matter, Trip?"

"You have no idea how terrified I was when I saw you chained to that wall yesterday, covered in blood, because I really believed he was you," he continued, "an' I know I done a lotta things without thinkin', but the only thing I was thinkin' about yesterday in that market was keepin' you from getting' killed‑‑" Malcolm was about to speak, but Trip held up his hand. "This has been comin' on for a long time, an' I didn' know what the heck it was 'til yesterday. I have to tell you before I lose you forever, Malcolm, because‑‑"

"‑‑Trip?"

"What?"

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"Malcolm, I never said this to another man in my life, an' I don' know how to say it to a man, but I've fallen in love with you. I love you, an' I'd rather lose your friendship but know you're still alive than lose you forever an' live with regret because I was too scared to tell you how I feel. I was too scared to tell you in the shuttlepod, but what I saw yesterday made me realize if I don' say somethin' now, I might not have you tomorrow‑‑"

Malcolm stopped Trip from babbling further by leaning forward and gently clasping his shoulders. "Trip, you will never lose my friendship," he said softly, "and you will always have my love." He closed the distance between them, placed a hand on Trip's face, and tenderly kissed him. Somehow, things got blurry again, and Malcolm found himself on his bed for the second night in a row, snuggling with Trip Tucker. At least this time, it was in response to good news. When they had to come up for air, he asked, "For heavens' sake, Trip, couldn't you have told me sooner?"

"Malcolm, you never gave anyone a clue about your preferences," he replied, "You're the dang Armoury Officer‑‑I never said anything 'cus I kinda like my organs and bones the way they're arranged right now." A wounded expression crossed Malcolm's face. "Oh, Mal, I didn' mean it like that‑‑" he sighed, "Yeah, I did, didn' I? I'm sorry, Malcolm, I am so sorry‑‑" he whispered, tears in his eyes as he moved to get off the bed, "I don' ever want to hurt your feelings‑‑"

"I never gave a clue about my preferences," Malcolm replied, grasping Trip's arm, "because I was an unhappy, celibate bisexual who wanked off in the shower too damn often for his own damn good after being confined for too damn long in a frigid shuttlepod with the most annoying Chief Engineer in Starfleet‑‑" He was silenced by that annoying Chief Engineer's not-so-annoying mouth.

They came up for air much later. "We really oughtta take off our uniforms before we get into bed, ya know."

"I'm too tired for sex, and I can't concentrate on anything but Derek right now."

"I'm too confused for sex, just as tired, and I can' concentrate on anythin' but you right now," Trip replied quietly, and turned to leave the bed again.

"Don't leave, please," Malcolm said suddenly, placing an arm across his friend's chest. "I need to think, but I wouldn't mind someone to hold onto, so I know I'm not alone."

"That's good, 'cus I think you could become my favorite person to hold," Trip replied and embraced him. "Bein' alone is jus' plain sad, but bein' alone when I could be with you is a tragedy."

"Except," Malcolm said, "we really ought to take off our uniforms before we get into bed."  
*****

Three days after Derek came aboard, Captain Archer visited Sickbay to speak with Lieutenant Reed. "Malcolm, I know Phlox said Derek is your biological brother, and I believe him, but would you check his bag for his birth certificate, please?" the captain asked. "I want to see his and your birth certificates together; it seems unlikely that Phlox would make a mistake, but why weren't you told about your brother? Would your parents have hidden this information from you for some reason?"

Malcolm's stomach lurched at the order and questions. "I‑‑I don't know why they didn't tell me, either, sir. I haven't examined his bag yet, but I put it through the decontamination process. When would you like to meet?"

"What about tomorrow, ten hundred hours? Phlox tells me that he's usually finished feeding and cleaning Mister Cane by that time. I'll come down to Sickbay."

"That's fine, sir; I‑‑I'll let the Commander know," Malcolm said. "There may be a discrepancy on my birth certificate‑‑compared to my brother's, Captain, but I promise to explain everything."  
*****

Derek's 'box bag' from the Adjudicators' Office on Saiph III contained his identity records from Earth, a few family keepsakes, and a copy of his indenture contract. Malcolm had opened the bag in Decon, used the filtering/decontaminating vacuum, and misted the contents thoroughly with a decontaminant spray. The vacuum pulled most contaminating particles from the surface of items and interiors of equipment. The spray neutralized most bacteria and germs, terrestrial or alien, and ultraviolet or infrared light got whatever survived. Phlox scanned the bag and contents as clean and released them. Malcolm just shoved the bag into the gun safe in his cabin the night Derek came aboard the ship, and he hadn't thought about it since.

Now, he opened his safe, removed the small, zipped black polymer bag, and wiped off traces of decontaminant gel from it. He sat at his desk with the bag before him, carefully unzipped it, and lifted it slightly so his desk lamp could light the interior. There were a few laminated photos and documents, Derek's indenture contract printed upon an intriguing alien polymer, and a strange lump of stone. It looked vaguely pumice-like but was quite heavy for its size, a roughly chiseled rectangle that could be held in a hand. His suspicious mind wondered what it was or could be hiding, but he set it aside for now and withdrew the laminated documents.

He spread the documents across his desk like playing cards and examined them. There were two laminated photographs; in the first, a mature, tired-looking woman and a small boy, perhaps five years old, were standing in front of a school building. In the second photo, the woman now appeared much older and much more fatigued, and the boy was older, perhaps ten years old; they stood before large wooden doors, opened to give a glimpse of dark corridors beyond. When he saw the completion certificates for the schools Derek attended, his stomach tensed with anxiety‑‑and profound sympathy for his long-lost brother. From the ages of five to ten, Derek had attended the Gordon School, a 'public' boarding school, meaning 'private' in Britain. It was a 'pre-military' school, preparing very young boys for more rigorous instruction later. When he was ten, he went to the Rhexanor Military Academy, a school notorious for its history of student abuses, and Malcolm suspected‑‑no, he feared‑‑that Derek had been abused there, which would account for some of his oldest intestinal scars. The last thing he examined was Derek's birth certificate with his‑‑their‑‑original birthdate.  
*****


	3. Chapter 3

TITLE: Twins, 3/12?, Tu/R, Tu/OMC, pre-slash, T+-R.  
AUTHOR: Serit.  
PAIRING/S: Tucker/Reed, Tucker/original male character.  
RATING: T+-R.  
WARNING/S: References to child abuse, prostitution, non-consensual sex, violent molestation.  
SUMMARY: What if Malcolm Reed had a twin brother that he‑‑and his parents‑‑didn't know about? An alien bazaar like Rigel X is life-changing for Reed and Tucker. This is my excuse for having twice as much Malcolm in a fic!  
NOTE/S: This should be set before "Shockwave," but I've referenced "Minefield" and "The Communicator; as always with all my fic, everything after "Bounty" that involves the Xindi doesn't happen in my version of the Trekverse, with any exceptions noted.  
2ND NOTE: If some of Malcolm's explanations sound familiar, it's because I originally wrote his backstory in "Twins" long before I was bit by the "Two Days…" plot bunny and I reused Mal's backstory.  
DISCLAIMER in Chapter 1.

* * *

The next morning at ten hundred hours, Archer, Reed, Tucker, and Doctor Phlox conferred in Sickbay; they sat grouped around Derek Cane's biobed in Sickbay's ICU. After Archer asked to see Cane's birth certificate, Reed hinted there was an inconsistency in his and his brother's records and promised to explain everything. The captain merely thought it was more of Reed's overactive sense of self-reproach. "I‑‑I'm very sorry, Captain Archer," he stammered, "I should have told you the truth when I came aboard; I should have trusted you long before this, sir, Official Secrets Act be damned‑‑"

"What?!"

"I'm prevented from telling you this by Starfleet's Official Secrets Act, but it doesn't matter anymore, does it?" He held his brother's hand and gazed longingly at him, and then looked at Archer, who thought his young officer also appeared pale and unwell. "At the end of my first year at the Academy, I was recruited by Starfleet Intelligence, also known as 'Section 31' or 'the Bureau'. The man who recruited me, Harris, became my handler and contact, and also my blackmailer. During my training, I was instructed to gather evidence about suspicious personal activities of some high-ranking Starfleet officers‑‑but my presence in the vid footage ensured my cooperation with Harris until‑‑well, until later‑‑" He blinked rapidly and avoided looking at Trip, sitting next to him. His friend touched his arm; Malcolm flinched and swiftly turned his head. Archer was surprised to see a flicker of fear in Malcolm's eyes. Trip was stunned also, but he recovered, smiled gently, and clasped his friend's free hand.

"How long were you active in the Bureau?" Archer asked quietly.

Malcolm seemed bewildered by Trip's response, but he tore his attention away from his friend. "I was active for four years and left after my third mission. I was caught on that one and tortured for information for eight months‑‑including water torture." He shuddered, recalling the memory, then continued. "When I finally escaped‑‑with the help of native jailers‑‑I left the planet and returned to Earth. I learned that Harris had other operatives on the planet at the same time I was there who could have rescued me. Other operatives could have rescued me a month after my capture‑‑but didn't‑‑because Harris didn't tell them about me‑‑and he knew I had been caught." Archer saw Malcolm's eyes turn cold and hard, something he had never seen before, not on Terra Nova, not when he had been impaled by a space mine on the hull of _Enterprise_, not when he was about to be hung as a spy on a pre-warp planet. The young man turned his attention to his brother and watched as the respirator breathed for him.

"Then what happened?" Trip whispered. He exchanged his hand holding Malcolm's hand and hesitantly placed his left hand on his friend's back. Malcolm turned swiftly to gaze at him, but he appeared surprised and encouraged by Trip's action.

"I received medical treatment and physical rehabilitation therapy on Earth which lasted for a year," he said, "After I was declared healthy, Harris and I made a decision‑‑he altered my records, and I was readmitted to the Academy. I didn't have the same instructors I had the first time, few people remembered a cadet who dropped out, and it was five years later, so it was as if I started all over again." Malcolm handed three documents to Archer: Derek's birth certificate, his original birth certificate, and his certificate with the altered year of birth.

"What was the medical treatment and physical rehabilitation therapy for?" Doctor Phlox asked.

"Pneumonia, pulmonary edema, and collapsed lungs from a viral infection," he replied with a rueful smirk, "I have my complete medical record for you here," he pulled a datachip from his sleeve pocket and handed it across Derek's bed to Phlox.

"Please excuse me, gentlemen," Phlox said, left the room, and returned moments later with a datapadd into which he inserted Malcolm's chip. He examined the information and passed the padd to the captain.

Archer looked at the three documents and compared Malcolm's and Cane's birth certificates to Malcolm's 'second' birth certificate, which he now knew was forged. The three were identical, except for the record number on Malcolm's forged certificate. He was nudged by Phlox, and looked up, distracted by the doctor, who handed him a padd. Archer glanced down and saw a list of horrific injuries caused by torture that appalled him. He couldn't imagine how his lean and compact Armoury Officer had survived the brutality. He took a deep breath and returned the documents to Malcolm. "I can understand why you didn't tell me this before," he said quietly. "I have to tell Starfleet Command your brother is aboard, and that he is seriously injured and comatose. What do you want to do when I receive an answer regarding his presence aboard the ship?"

"I wish to point out that, because Mister Cane is a civilian and comatose," Phlox said, "Starfleet Command will probably ask the Vulcan Legation to send a medical ship to remove him from _Enterprise_ and bring him to Earth immediately."

Reed stared at Archer and Phlox in dull shock, his eyes darting to and from each man. "I‑‑I promised Derek I'd be at his side when he wakes," he whispered hoarsely, appearing even more unwell. "I can't break that promise to him‑‑or to myself, sir. If he's removed from _Enterprise_ before he wakes from the coma, I'll request a leave of absence to stay with him. If the leave isn't granted, I'll resign my commission, effective when Derek is removed from the ship."

"‑‑Malcolm‑‑" Trip whispered roughly.

He turned to his friend. "He's my brother, Trip; it doesn't matter that I never knew I had a brother‑‑"

"‑‑I know that, but that ain' it," the engineer said sharply, "I jus' foun' you, an' I ain' plannin' on lettin' you get away from me‑‑unless you're sayin' you don' want me or my help‑‑"

"‑‑Trip, I'll never withdraw my friendship or my love, but you can't leave your career‑‑"

"If you're gonna leave your career and _Enterprise_ when Derek leaves, then I'm leavin' with you. I'll request a leave of absence to accompany my prospective life partner and his brother to Earth," Trip said. "If I don't get it, then I'll resign my commission, effective when Derek and you leave the ship." Archer suddenly felt queasy, and it had nothing to do with an upset stomach.

"Trip, you can't do this‑‑" Malcolm pleaded.

The commander turned to Archer and Phlox. "Excuse me, gentlemen, I gotta talk some sense inta ma boyfrien' an' soulmate," he said, turned to face Reed, and placed both of his shaking hands on his face, and leaned in to kiss him gently, briefly. Forehead-to-forehead and nose-to-nose, Trip whispered, "I love ya, Malcolm Reed, I love ya dearly; an' if you're gonna give up your post as Armoury Officer t'take care of Derek, then I can give up my position as Chief Engineer t'take care of you while you're takin' care of Derek‑‑"

"‑‑Have you any idea what you're saying?!" Malcolm exclaimed, pulling out of Trip's clasp.

"Yeah, I know exac'ly what I'm sayin'‑‑'for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness an' in health'‑‑"

"‑‑Trip, you can't mean it!" Malcolm squeaked shrilly, tears in his eyes.

"Yeah, I do mean it‑‑"

Jonathan Archer felt a chill creep into his bones‑‑and his conscience. He saw two possible future versions of Starfleet ahead of him. One Starfleet would allow intimate relationships to be formed between people, resulting in contented personnel aboard starships. The other Starfleet would cling stubbornly to obsolete regulations, forcing personnel to hide their relationships or to separate as soon as they formed a relationship, which could only hurt everyone's careers and health‑‑and Starfleet's overall strength. Until he could convince Admiral Forrest that he had done the right thing, Archer knew he would have to keep his knowledge of his officers' relationship hidden.

"We are still discussing the care and treatment of a patient," Phlox said, interrupting them.

"In what way does this have to do with me caring for Derek?" Malcolm asked in surprise.

"We're still discussing you caring for your brother, and if someone else is discussing caring for you while you are caring for your brother, it's still relevant to the matter‑‑and protected by doctor-patient confidentiality."

Trip dried Malcolm's eyes and released him. The Armoury officer frowned at the doctor, "That sounds very much like a circular argument, Doctor Phlox."

"It may be," the doctor replied, "but, as the ship's medical officer, I can interpret regulations any way I wish, as long as I have a logical reason supporting my interpretation. You could change your mind and leave Captain Archer, or the Captain and Mister Tucker, out of the information loop, as you Humans say, and unpleasantly surprise them when you do leave‑‑if your brother leaves the ship while comatose."

"I‑‑I can't do this alone," Malcolm whispered, "I don't know what to do‑‑" He was staring not at Archer or Phlox, but at a spot between them in the middle distance. He was as pale as his injured brother, but it wasn't from blood loss. Archer wondered how much tension the lieutenant could endure before he broke from the emotional stress; then he realized Trip had foreseen Malcolm's possible breakdown if his friend didn't have assistance with the exhausting duties of caring for an ill relative. And Jonathan Archer personally knew how fatiguing caring for a family member could be.

"Mal, please, listen to me," Trip said softly and clasped his friend's hand, "No one said you hadda do this alone. I'm your frien', an' frien's help frien's; you do not hafta do it alone. Doctor Phlox will teach us what t'do, an' I'll help you care for Derek. Please let me help you," he said sincerely, "You help Derek get well, an' I'll make sure you don' run yourself ragged carin' for him, an' carin' for the ship, but not carin' for yourself."

Malcolm appeared surprised by Trip's statement. He should have known by then about Trip's capacity to give support and help, but the young man (older than Archer thought he was, but looking younger than either his real or false ages) still had an expression of confused wonder on his face. "T‑‑Trip, I'll spend every possible bit of free time here in Sickbay, caring for Derek, and when I'm not here, I'll have to make sure the Armoury's status and efficiency level stays high‑‑"

"‑‑That's why you have a second-in-command," Archer pointed out, "they should be able to assume your duties at a moment's notice. I spent a lot of time examining Starfleet personnel records when I chose my command staff, and everyone I selected has the right mix of education, intelligence, experience, and skill to be on _Enterprise_." He stopped speaking because he knew, if he let any more words past his lips, that he'd speak his plans. He could see that Malcolm jumped to the obvious (and correct) conclusion‑‑that he wouldn't contact Admiral Forrest and Starfleet about Derek Cane just yet.

"Sir, you can't ruin your career protecting Commander Tucker or me!" Malcolm exclaimed, appearing as queasy as Archer felt earlier.

"I am not protecting you," he replied sternly, "If I thought you or Trip had placed this ship and crew in danger, I'd hand you over to Starfleet myself, friendship notwithstanding, but I know you both well enough that either of you would die before letting any harm come to _Enterprise_ or this crew." Archer took a deep breath and hoped that he had Phlox's unspoken support for his next statement. "Besides, Doctor Phlox has told me that your brother is making excellent progress; he expects Derek to wake from the coma by the end of next week. I see no need right now to notify Starfleet that he's aboard, when we'll be able to interview him and probably return to Earth at that time."

"Captain Archer, I‑‑I appreciate everything you're doing for Derek‑‑and me," Malcolm said softly, "but sooner or later, Starfleet will learn about his presence aboard the ship, most likely from the automatic medical transmissions sent weekly and monthly."

"I've considered that problem, and Mister Tucker has worked around it," Phlox said, "with scanners, medical telemetry, and a free-standing database that keeps Mister Cane's medical information separate from the Starfleet database, but which also has an uploadable capability should we wish to transfer his medical data to Starfleet Medical at a later time‑‑"

"‑‑An' this system can be adapted for field an' remote use with external batteries," Trip said, "it solves a big problem Starfleet Command has had‑‑providin' services when they want to send a starship to a planet or space station. All we need is an interface system that'll convert our measurements to an alien's data system, an' our people won' need to use their equipment, we'll have a platform that can work with anyone's."

"I recommend that we adjourn this meeting and discuss the ramifications of this subject later," Doctor Phlox said firmly, "Mister Reed needs to concentrate on his brother right now‑‑"

"‑‑Doctor, please‑‑" Malcolm stammered.

"Malcolm, Phlox is right," Archer said as kindly as he could. "You need to concentrate on Derek now. We'll discuss what we'll say to Starfleet later. If you decide that you want to speak with your family at any time, contact me and we'll set up a call to Earth. Your first duty is to care for your brother, and secondly, to take care of yourself‑‑" the captain's green eyes flickered towards Trip, Phlox, and back to the young man, "‑‑without any senior officers having to change those duties into orders, _Lieutenant_," he emphasized. He was relieved to see an amused smirk cross Malcolm's face, and he sighed. "I know that you're a dedicated and hard-working officer, Malcolm, I know you won't neglect your professional duties; I just don't want you to neglect yourself, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," his over-eager Armoury officer replied, seemingly less burdened than he had been earlier.

As he stood, Archer idly wondered how different Malcolm's life would have been if he'd been raised with his twin brother. "Doctor Phlox will keep me informed about Derek; if his condition becomes critical at any time, he'll call you and also let me know. If you need to talk about Derek, Trip and Phlox will always listen, and if you want to confide in me, I will too."

Malcolm had risen when his captain stood. "Thank you, Captain Archer, I‑‑I appreciate everything you're doing for Derek and me‑‑" he extended his hand across the biobed, they shook, and Archer continued moving towards the exit from ICU. "‑‑However, I believe you're risking your career on our behalf. If Starfleet notices any discrepancies in the medical reports, then it's best if I tell the truth‑‑"

"‑‑Lieutenant Reed, I thought you knew the age-old saying of pilots and explorers‑‑" Archer paused and looked over his shoulder, "ask forgiveness, not permission." Trip chuckled, and even Phlox smiled indulgently at the remark.

"‑‑Ah, yes, sir, I've heard it," Malcolm replied, surprised by Archer's resolve concerning the situation. The captain nodded and left Sickbay.  
*****

Archer returned to the Bridge after the Sickbay meeting and went directly to his Ready Room. He checked the day's schedule; Ensigns Sato and Cutler were on duty. He sent short emails to both women, instructing them to meet with him at fourteen-hundred hours in his Ready Room. He sent a short message to Phlox, letting him know that he wanted to speak with Cutler, and asked Sub-Commander T'Pol to come to his Ready Room.

"I had a meeting this morning with Doctor Phlox, Commander Tucker, and Lieutenant Reed in Sickbay. Phlox assured me that Derek Cane is Lieutenant Reed's biological brother," Archer said after the Vulcan arrived and sat across from him. "Phlox also reminded me that, if we inform Starfleet Command of Cane's presence now, while he's comatose, then a Vulcan ship would probably be sent to remove and return him to Earth."

"There's a problem inherent in this situation, sir?" T'Pol replied.

"Yes‑‑Lieutenant Reed didn't know he has a twin brother, and Malcolm has stated that, if Cane is removed from the ship before he regains consciousness, he will leave with him to care for him when they reach Earth."

"It is problematic," T'Pol stated, "His expertise is vital to the ship's operation. I surmise that you are considering not mentioning Cane's presence aboard to Starfleet, Captain?"

"Yes, but for a slightly different, more emotional, reason," Archer continued, "I just learned that Commander Tucker has become emotionally involved with Lieutenant Reed‑‑I think seeing someone who looked like Malcolm being attacked on Saiph III made Trip confront his feelings. He's indicated that if Lieutenant Reed were to leave the ship, to return to Earth and care for his brother, he would want to accompany them, to take care of Malcolm."

"If you tell Starfleet about Cane's presence and his medical condition, Admiral Forrest will order him removed from the ship, and you run the risk of losing not one, but two senior officers," T'Pol said impassively, "I fear that, if Starfleet were to deny leave for the Lieutenant or the Commander, both would disobey orders and leave the ship in any case." She lowered her head and gazed at Archer's desk.

"And the logical solution would be?"

"I do not believe there is one, not for Humans, at least," she looked up. "Vulcan parents would know, probably within two weeks of conception, the sex and number of embryos, and the thought of someone taking an infant shortly after birth‑‑multiple births are rare on Vulcan; the mother and father would know how many embryos‑‑children‑‑there are. If a family member was injured or ill, depending on the relationship, leave would be granted. If it were not, the serving individual would know that the injured family member would be cared for by others, but I doubt that even Lieutenant Reed would be able to concentrate on his duties if he were not with his brother. It seems that you face a problem in which all possible outcomes have negative consequences for the ship and crewmembers."

"Sub-Commander T'Pol, are you familiar with one of Earth's age-old sayings of pilots and explorers?"

"I've heard many, Captain Archer, but to which one are you referring specifically?"

" 'Ask forgiveness, not permission'," he replied, "I only hope that Derek Cane regains consciousness soon."

"I understand your attitude, Captain, and share your concerns. Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me?"

"About Cane? No, but I've asked Hoshi and Ensign Cutler to meet with me at fourteen-hundred hours."

"Ensign Sato will be on the Bridge at that time; I will let you know when Ensign Cutler arrives."

"Thank you, T'Pol; and thank you for listening to my‑‑admittedly illogical‑‑thoughts." The Vulcan stood to leave the room. "T'Pol, please pardon my asking, but what do Vulcans think about homosexuality?"

She had an expression on her face that reminded Archer of a startled deer in headlights. "In ancient times, it was tolerated because it removed potential rivals from mating consideration," she replied, attempting to regain her equilibrium, "Now, it is believed that numerous genetic factors combine to form a predisposition for one's own sex. If the person was expected to conceive offspring, it might become an issue within a family. Personal matters like these are not discussed in Vulcan society."

"I apologize for asking, then. You won't think less of Commander Tucker or Lieutenant Reed, will you?"

"Of course not, Captain Archer; they are intelligent men and highly-trained officers who have behaved in an exemplary manner in the past. It would be illogical of me to change my opinion of them in light of this information."

"Thank you, Sub-Commander T'Pol, for your insight, as always," Archer said, "Dismissed." She nodded in acknowledgment and left his Ready Room.  
*****

At three minutes before fourteen-hundred hours, T'Pol commed Archer from the Bridge. "Ensign Cutler has arrived for your meeting," she said, "Shall I send her and Ensign Sato in?"

"Yes, thank you." The door of his Ready Room chimed a moment later, and Archer stood. "Come in." Hoshi Sato and Liz Cutler entered; "Ladies, thank you for coming, please sit down," he gestured to the two chairs on the public side of his desk console.

"I‑‑we understand this meeting is about what happened on Saiph III, sir," Sato said after she sat; Cutler nodded mutely, unaccustomed to interacting with the Captain and senior officers.

"Yes, specifically, it's about Lieutenant Reed and Derek Cane," Archer said, "I had a meeting this morning with Doctor Phlox, Commander Tucker, and Lieutenant Reed in Sickbay. Phlox assured me that Derek Cane is Lieutenant Reed's biological brother. You both do know that Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed are close friends, right?" Sato tried to suppress a snicker and failed. "Ensign Sato?"

"Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed have been past the 'close friends' stage since they were on the shuttlepod when it was disabled, sir," she replied, smiling. "If you haven't heard them arguing about power allocation for the phase cannons, then take my word for it. The current betting pool is an even three-way split between them getting divorced before they get married, or Commander Tucker ripping the Lieutenant's uniform off and fu‑‑making love to him in the middle of the Mess until he passes out‑‑"

"‑‑Side bets if Doctor Phlox is there, taking notes‑‑" Cutler added.

"‑‑Or Malcolm beating the Commander to a bloody pulp because he hasn't upgraded the power allocation matrix for the phase cannons‑‑"

"‑‑Or the scenario no one wants to contemplate: one of them gets severely injured, or worse, killed, and the other one tries to commit suicide‑‑"

"‑‑Travis and I have agreed to tackle the survivor and drag him to Sickbay before there's any harm," Sato concluded.

Archer's eyebrows had risen nearly to his hairline as the women spoke. "Well, I guess I should develop better ways of getting gossip," he said, and calmed. "Hoshi, when you get back to your post, send me a memo reminding me to review the current status of the power allocation matrix, to set up meetings with Commander Tucker, Lieutenant Reed, their SICs and shift managers, and lastly, I need to review Starfleet's crew structure guidelines‑‑I think I need a personal assistant of some kind, and I don't think putting things onto a padd will take care of everything I need."

"Got it, Captain," Sato replied, pulled out a datapadd from a sleeve pocket, and quickly made some notes.

"Getting back on topic," Archer continued, "Doctor Phlox isn't certain how long Mister Cane will be comatose. He believes Cane will regain consciousness by the end of the week, or within ten days, at most." Cutler appeared doubtful. "Something to add, Ensign Cutler?"

"Phlox was a bit‑‑well, uncharacteristically _blunt_‑‑with Lieutenant Reed, sir, and he doesn't think it will be quite that soon," Cutler said softly. "The poor man's been moving around like he's been whacked over the head and doesn't know enough to fall down. He sits next to him, and it's as if‑‑well, as if he's willing Derek to heal with his mind. Y'know, if Commander Tucker wasn't around to make sure that the Lieutenant eats, and gets to his duty shifts, and all that stuff, I think he'd be there 24 hours a day, waiting for his brother to wake up."

"Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker will be reducing their active duty time to assist Phlox in caring for Cane. I need both of you to be‑‑and stay‑‑uncharacteristically _optimistic_," the captain added, "If any crewmember asks about Cane's presence in Sickbay, everyone on this ship needs to know that we believe he's going to regain consciousness soon‑‑the key word being soon. Lieutenant Reed and his brother then can get to the bottom of their own mystery‑‑that Malcolm didn't know he has a twin brother he's never met, and those specifics are confidential and not to be gossiped about, it that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir. Basically, you want us to guide any gossip's spin in the proper direction, don't you, sir?" Sato said in a composed voice.

"Basically, yes," Archer replied, "As soon as Cane regains consciousness, we'll learn his story, and explain the situation to Starfleet; they'll probably have us return to Earth. I want every crewmember who questions Cane's presence in Sickbay to clearly understand that we would do the same for any injured Human without adequate medical facilities aboard their own ship, or who is stranded on an alien-controlled planet. He will continue to receive medical treatment in Sickbay until his injuries have healed to the point where Doctor Phlox can release him; he is not receiving medical care because he is Lieutenant Reed's brother, but because he is _Human_‑‑and Doctor Phlox has conclusively determined that Cane is Human, not a shape shifting alien. Do either of you have any questions?"

"What do you want us to say about Mister Cane's medical condition?" Liz Cutler asked.

"His medical status is serious and the details are protected by patient confidentiality rules," Archer replied, "if Malcolm wants to put a statement onto the ship's intranet, help him draft and distribute that, Hoshi."

She nodded. "People will want to visit Malcolm and offer their support and help," Hoshi said, "You know how reticent and stiff-upper-lip he is, he'll be embarrassed by all the attention. What should we do or say?"

"I'm definitely going to set up a meeting as soon as possible with Commander Tucker, Lieutenant Reed, their SICs, and their shift supervisors," Archer said, "later today, if we can schedule it. If anyone asks you immediately upon learning about this‑‑"

"‑‑Like Travis‑‑" Hoshi remarked.

"‑‑Refer him to me; I'll get back to both of you as soon as Malcolm decides how he'd like to handle it. Any other questions?"

"I don't have any, sir," Cutler said.

"I don't, either, Captain," Sato echoed.

"Dismissed," Archer said. The two women looked at each other, nodded at Archer, and left his Ready Room.  
*****

Archer wanted to arrange meetings with Commander Tucker in Engineering and Lieutenant Reed in the Armoury or Engineering with their seconds-in-command and shift supervisors. He commed Sickbay. "Doctor Phlox, are Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker still with you?"

"I'm sorry, Captain, I threw them out approximately fifteen minutes ago," he replied, "I ordered them to the Mess to eat lunch and take a break for an hour. Would you like me to send them up to the Bridge when they return?"

"No, that's all right; I'll go to the Mess and find them," the captain said, "I plan to have meetings with Trip and Malcolm and their shift supervisors, so they may not return soon. I'll call to let you know where we'll be‑‑unless there's been changes Malcolm should be told of?"

"No, no, Mister Cane's status is still the same," Phlox said, "if anything changes, I'll page the ship for you."

"That's fine, Phlox; I hope Derek regains consciousness soon," Archer said and disconnected the intercom. Archer checked his computer's in box and copied Hoshi's memo onto his small personal-use datapadd, slipped it into one of his chest pockets, and briskly walked from his Ready Room to the Bridge.

T'Pol heard him long before anyone else, and she rose gracefully from the captain's chair. "Will you be staying on the Bridge, captain?" she asked.

"No, I won't be; I'm going to find Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed in the Mess hall or at Sickbay. I'll be having a meeting with them, their s-i-cs, and shift supervisors," he replied, but he took his position in the captain's chair, "T'Pol, if you've missed your lunch break, take it now. Ensign Sato will sit Bridge duty while you're away."

"I will?!" Hoshi squeaked shrilly from her Communications console.

"You'll be fine; if you have any questions, Travis can help you."

The navigator whirled his attached seat around. "Thanks a lot, Captain!" he grumbled, then smiled.

"I'd like you to run a search for me, though, if you can do it from the big chair."

"What do you need?"

"Please find how many times Starfleet Command contacted us by sub-space during Alpha shift in the past thirty days," Archer instructed, "I think we may need to implement a temporary protocol change for the next few weeks."

"If not on the Bridge, where will you be?" T'Pol asked Archer.

"I'm not certain right now, but either in Engineering or the Armoury," he said, "I'll call from where we end up."

"I will take my lunch break now," T'Pol said and keyed an entry into the Bridge log, "and, based on the recommendation from Captain Archer, Ensign Sato will sit Bridge duty during my absence." Archer chuckled as he pushed the turbo-lift button and Sato took the command chair. "I need not remind other Bridge staff that all communications on and from the Bridge are recorded for safety reasons," T'Pol added, glancing briefly at Mayweather.

"Aye, Sub-Commander," Mayweather acknowledged. Archer waved T'Pol ahead of himself onto the lift, and the doors closed.  
*****


	4. Chapter 4

TITLE: Twins, 4/12, Tu/R, Tu/OMC, pre-slash, AU, FFN: R.  
AUTHOR: Serit.  
PAIRING/S: Tucker/Reed, Tucker/original male character.  
RATING: FFN: R.  
WARNING/S: References to child abuse, prostitution, non-consensual sex, violent molestation.  
SUMMARY: What if Malcolm Reed had a twin brother that he‑‑and his parents‑‑didn't know about? An alien bazaar like Rigel X is life-changing for Reed and Tucker.  
NOTE/S: I've received comments that Malcolm would never let Trip reveal their budding relationship openly to Archer and Phlox in Sickbay. Please give Mal a break! The poor man is still gobsmacked to learn he has an identical twin brother about whom he knows nothing! Trip just breezed past his defenses, and Malcolm may never be the same!  
2ND NOTE: I'm using the names of characters other writers have created; they work, they fit, and I'm sorry if I miss someone; thanks to Britpacker for her use of Crewman Mahapatra.  
DISCLAIMER in Chapter 1. (And yes, the number of chapters keeps growing, but that's only because I'm limiting their size!

* * *

Archer entered the Mess and saw that Reed and Tucker were sitting at the Armoury officer's usual spot, between the two rectangular portholes, opposite the main doors. Malcolm faced the doors, as usual, and Trip sat to his right. The captain went through the meal line, picked up a large mug of coffee, a side salad, spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, and a sliced fruit plate; he ambled casually through the seating area, acknowledging and greeting crewmembers as he moved toward his two officers. Reed began to stand as soon as he reached the table and set down his tray. "At ease, Lieutenant, and please sit down," the captain said, "I'm beginning to lose my confidence because you always seem so anxious around me."

"—I—I'm sorry, sir—" Malcolm stammered uneasily, and sat again, but he appeared queasy to his commanding officer.

The captain sat across from Reed and exhaled carefully, so his breath wouldn't sound like a sigh of resignation. "Malcolm, I know I can't order you to, but would you please just _try_ to relax when you're around me?"

"—Yes, sir," the young officer replied and lowered his head over his meal, but he did not resume eating.

"Malcolm, you _have_ to eat, to stay healthy, for your brother's sake," Archer said, "or you'll end up in Sickbay next to him, and then I won't be able to delay telling Starfleet about him."

The Armoury officer raised his head in surprise, and took a deep breath. "—I—I know, sir—" he mumbled, "but I have trouble letting go of small details when the department is so important—"

"—Lieutenant Reed, your brother is _not_ 'a small detail' in your life!" the captain grumbled.

"—Mal, nothin's more importan' right now than your brother an' your health," Trip interrupted. "Believe me, family is the mos' importan' thing in your life, even if ya _are_ uncomf'able dealin' with'em."

"Trip is giving you good advice, and you should know by now that everyone on the command staff is—_wants_ to be—your friend." The captain realized that Tucker had to be anxious, excited, and seriously distracted to allow his honeyed Southern accent to be heard in a public place. Embarrassed—and confused—by his friend's and his commanding officer's concern for him, Malcolm concentrated on his meal; Archer and Tucker did likewise.

At one point, Malcolm paused halfway through his meal, but Trip leaned close and whispered to him. Malcolm sighed, nodded, and began eating again. A minute or so later, he sighed, shook his head, placed his utensils on the plate, and moved his tray away from himself. "I'm sorry, I just can't eat any more—"

"—Do'ya want somethin' else?" Trip asked quickly.

"Trip, please don't bother; I'll be fine—"

"—It's not a bother, _you_ ain' a bother, an' ya won' be fine if ya don' eat!" the engineer pleaded earnestly. "What wou'ja like? I'll ask Chef to make somethin' for'ya if it's not on today's menu." Malcolm appeared surprised, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Even though Reed was five years older than his recorded age, Archer realized there were times like this, when his Armoury officer looked and behaved as if he was younger, more guileless and innocent. Malcolm apparently didn't know what to make of Trip's eagerness, but Archer had watched Trip grow into manhood and into his rank. He could see that the engineer, young but still two years older than Malcolm, was serious, sincere, and wore his devotion to his beloved friend proudly, like _Enterprise_'s patch on his sleeve. "Really, Malcolm, what wou'ja like to eat?"

"Would—would you please see if there's any more garlic bread, please?"

"Of course; wou'ja like somethin' to drink wi'that?"

"Would you—would you please bring me a glass of ginger ale, please? With a lid, please, so I can take it out of the Mess?"

"Sure thing, Mal," Trip replied and bounded out of his seat. He was back in a minute or so, not even breathing hard, looking triumphant, as if he'd clubbed a wild loaf of garlic bread and forded a flooding river of ginger ale to bring food to his beloved friend. "Oh, sorry, Cap'n, I shoulda asked ya if ya wan'ned anything—" he stammered, and Archer couldn't help but chuckle.

"That's quite all right, Trip, I don't need a thing. As soon as you're finished with your lunches, I want to meet with both of you, your Seconds-in-Command, and your shift managers, in someone's office, or in one of the meeting rooms on the Engineering Deck."

"Is—is something wrong, sir?" Reed stammered anxiously.

"No, I just feel it's important to let your personnel know why you're both going to light duty, and to ask for their help," he replied. Malcolm stiffened, and Archer sighed, "You know that your Armoury and Security personnel admire and respect you very much, don't you?" he said. "Every time you're injured, your staff makes sure I know just how concerned they are about you." Even worse, Malcolm blushed at that comment.

Trip tried to stop his laughter, but couldn't. "I got the feelin' you ain'never gonna live this meetin' down, Mal!"

"If you do want all our staff," he said, trying to retain a little of his dignity, "I suggest that Commander Tucker and I personally wake our Gamma shift managers and bring them to the meeting. I don't know about the Commander's Gamma shift supervisor, but I know that Ensign Zahn is probably fast asleep at this hour of day."

"That's a good idea," the captain replied, "Now finish your garlic bread before it runs away on you—or Trip eats it." Malcolm smiled in spite of himself and blushed when Archer grinned.

"Hey!" Trip exclaimed, but he smiled also.

The lieutenant applied himself to his buttery, garlicky bread and slurped his 'travel cup' of ginger ale. Moments later, he was finished and inelegantly licked the buttery garlic powder from his fingertips, immediately blushing and wiping his hands on the napkin on his tray. "All right, gentlemen, I must wake up Ensign Zahn," he said, businesslike as usual, "where shall we have this meeting?"

"How about your office in the Armoury?" Archer asked.

"_My_ office?! My office is the smallest of all the department heads'!" Reed said, surprised, as the three men gathered their trays, deposited cutlery and crockery in the correct bins, and left the Mess hall.  
*****

Reed woke Ensign Zahn, his sleeping gamma shift manager, and called his beta shift manager, Ensign Tanner, as he waited for Zahn to shower, dress, and grab a breakfast sandwich in the Mess; Tanner caught up with them in the Mess. Reed called his Second-in-Command, Ensign Stone, to tell him about the impromptu meeting while they were on their way to the Armoury. Reed, Zahn, and Tanner reached the Armoury, a hive of bustling activity centered around Ensign Stone and Commander Tucker constructing a desk chair which was apparently moved from another location. Tucker stood and noticed Reed and his officers, "Hey, Mal—Loo-tenant Reed—Cap'n didn' wanna put'cha out of your own office, so we brought another chair in," he grinned smugly, "Do'ya think we kin all fit 'n there, Loo-tenant?"

"I don't think so—we'll have to shove you into the torpedo rack," Reed answered, and Hess and Stone promptly grabbed Tucker by his arms and knees and made ready to swing him into the munitions rack.

"Hey! At leas' I wen' 'n' looked for more seats!" Disappointed, Hess and Stone released Tucker; Hess engaged in a little playful air-slapping of her supervisor under the pretext of brushing nonexistent dust off his uniform, to which he retaliated in kind.

"Crewman Mahapatra, you have the controls," Reed said, ushering a grinning Captain Archer into his office.

"Aye, sir," the crewman replied, and took the position at the primary Tactical control panel.

Captain Archer, Reed, his second-in-command and alpha shift manager Ensign Stone, beta manager Ensign Tanner, gamma manager Ensign Zahn; Commander Tucker, his second-in-command and alpha shift manager, Lieutenant Hess, beta manager Lieutenant Rostov, and gamma manager, Ensign Novokovich, all crammed into Reed's tiny office in the Armoury.

The Armoury managers turned aluminum phase rifle cases on their ends for the others to sit on; Reed caught Stone in his laser-like gaze. "Those had better be empty cases, Ensign."

"Yes, sir, I checked each one that Rajesh brought out of locked storage," replied his second-in-command.

"Cap'n, I gotta design an' install some foldin' wall seats so department heads can have staff meetin's in their offices!" Trip said, and Malcolm rolled his eyes.

"Let's get this meeting started," Archer said, "Our gathering is the result of Commander Tucker interfering in an alien ritual combat on Saiph III," he began. "Most of you have heard that an incident occurred. The commander intervened because he thought one of the fighters was Lieutenant Reed, which it was _not_. Doctor Phlox has concluded that the fighter, Derek Cane, is Human, _not_ a shape shifting alien, and he is Lieutenant Reed's twin brother. Does anyone have any questions?"

Heads shook negatively and murmurs of "No, sir," filled the small office.

Archer nodded and continued. "The Lieutenant did not know he had a twin brother, and he's never met Cane before now; that is confidential information and is not to be repeated under any circumstances, is this clear?" The six junior officers mumbled and nodded affirmatively. "Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker will be assisting Doctor Phlox in caring for Mister Cane; they will be limiting their active duty time, and that's why I'm speaking with you. Doctor Phlox believes Cane will regain consciousness soon, and the key word is _soon_—"

"—Captain Archer, sir, please don't—" Reed interrupted quietly; he seemed startled when Tucker placed a comforting hand on his back.

Archer continued as if he hadn't heard Reed's objection. "—We'll learn Cane's story when he regains consciousness, and explain the situation to Starfleet at that time; they'll probably have us return to Earth then. If any crewmember asks about his presence in Sickbay, they must understand that we would do the same for any injured Human without adequate medical facilities aboard their own ship, or who is stranded on an alien-controlled planet." The Armoury personnel nodded, understanding Archer's explanation. "He'll continue to receive medical treatment in Sickbay until his injuries have healed to the point where Doctor Phlox can release him. He is _not_ receiving medical care because he is Lieutenant Reed's brother, but because he is Human—does anyone have any questions?"

Lieutenant Hess caught Stone's eye briefly; Archer saw their glance, and they nodded to each other. "No, sir, we don't," Hess said and coughed, "We know Starfleet would insist that Mister Cane be transferred to Earth because he's civilian and currently comatose—"

"—And it's obvious that the Lieutenant would accompany his brother to Earth if he was removed from the ship before he regained consciousness," Ensign Stone added, "I think everyone knows that the Commander would go with the Lieutenant in a situation like that—"

"—Aw, geez, Stone, we ain' that transparen', are we?!" Tucker exclaimed.

The other six junior officers crammed into the small office all chuckled and smiled at their two department heads. "Oh, yes, you are, like a pane of transparent _aluminium_," Hess said, with the British pronunciation of the element.

"Are you mocking me?" Reed said, but his eyes twinkled as he asked the question.

"I would _never_ mock you, sir," she replied quickly, "but everyone in Engineering is relieved that Commander Tucker _finally_ screwed his courage to the sticking point and told you how he feels. We—" she gestured at Rostov, who made a goofy face, and Novokovich, who stuck two fingers behind her head, "—were ready to go to Captain Archer and beg for an intervention—"

"—I was going to suggest just locking you both in the shuttlepod again until you figured it out," said Ensign Stone with a grin.

"—Not that 'pod tumblin' loose again!"

"Who said anything about letting it loose?" Archer laughed, "we could have just locked you both into the shuttlepod, left it in the hangar, and delivered your meals!"

Malcolm put his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, and his slender body shook. "Mal— Malcolm, they're jus' yankin' _mah_ chain—" Trip whispered in horror. The staff instantly quieted, thinking the reticent Englishman had broken down in embarrassed tears, until they heard a muffled /_snork!_/

Reed straightened, trying to swallow his laughter. "Trip, you daft pillock, everyone aboard has had us sussed since we first left Space Dock, but you are utterly clueless!" he tried to stop laughing, but it was difficult. "_Ah_ got the feelin' you ain'_nevah_ gonna live this meetin' down, _Commaanddah!_" he drawled, nailing Tucker's accent flawlessly.

Archer and the junior officers laughed as Trip blushed scarlet from the collar of his regulation thermal shirt into his hairline. "Har-har-har, ev'rybody," he grumbled good-naturedly, "I didn' realize I was under _surveillance_—but thank y'all anyway. Wha'daya have in min' for help, Cap'n?"

"Let's call Doctor Phlox, and he can tell us what can be said publicly about Cane," Archer said, reaching for the intercom station on Reed's desk console. "Archer to Phlox."

"Doctor Phlox here, Captain," the Denobulan doctor replied cheerfully, "What can I do for you?"

"What can be said publicly about Mister Cane's condition that doesn't violate privacy rules?" Archer asked.

"The only thing that I can release without approval from Lieutenant Reed is that Mister Cane has critical injuries, but he is in stable condition," Phlox replied.

"What about the fact that he's currently comatose?" Reed asked.

"That's privileged information, Lieutenant; if you wish to make that known, you may, and I can confirm it."

"All right—that's the start of our memo," Reed said, typing at his desk, " 'Derek Cane, formerly of the Saiph III Orion militia, has critical injuries but is in stable condition in _Enterprise_'s Sickbay, reports Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, his brother. Mister Cane is currently comatose but Doctor Phlox believes that he will regain consciousness soon.' —How does that sound, Phlox?"

"That's very good, Mister Reed," Phlox replied, "Will you say something about reducing your active duty status?"

" 'Lieutenant Reed will assist Doctor Phlox in caring for Mister Cane; the lieutenant will limit his active duty time to afternoon hours while still being on-call for all Tactical Alerts,' " Reed continued.

"Ya also should add, 'Commander Tucker will assist Lieutenant Reed in caring for Mister Cane; the Commander will limit his active duty time to afternoon hours while still being on-call for all Engineerin' matters,' " Trip added, surprising Malcolm.

"I want to add two notes to that announcement," Captain Archer said, "the first one being, 'Offers of help from the command staff should be sent to Commander Tucker; and offers of help from the rest of the crew should be sent to Ensign Stone.' Is that acceptable?" Tucker, Reed and Stone nodded. " 'A silent message protocol will be implemented from Sickbay to the Bridge, so aliens who communicate with us do not learn of any personnel weaknesses we may be experiencing.' How does that sound, Doctor?"

"That's excellent! Do you need me for anything else?"

"Trip? Malcolm?" Archer asked, but both men shook their heads negatively, and the captain replied, "That's all for right now, Doctor. I'm sure the Lieutenant and Commander will ask if they have additional questions for you. Armoury out." Malcolm disconnected the intercom link, and Archer looked over his shoulder. "Are you okay with that?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," the Armoury officer replied, "Do you want me to send it to the Comm Officer?"

"Let's get her on the comm, first, so I know Hoshi's there; Armoury to Comm."

"Comm Officer here, Armoury," Sato replied crisply.

"Lieutenant Reed is sending you a memo to be circulated," Archer said, "Mark it 'must-read' for all the crew; program the intercom system for silent messages from Sickbay to the Bridge, assign an intercom code to it, and send it to Doctor Phlox, also."

"Captain, I can't mark the memo 'must-read;' all mandatory messages are collated and sent to Starfleet with the weekly reports," Sato said. "I'll check the system for another way around it; I may need to call the Commander or Lieutenant for their—er, programming—expertise," she added. "Could you relay a message to the Commander, sir?"

"Of course, Ensign, what is it?"

"Navigation command staff would like to know how they can help Lieutenant Reed, sir."

Reed chuckled, "We should have placed odds on how long it'd take Travis to offer help!"

"You'd all be wrong," Archer replied, "he was looking eager when I left the Bridge to find you."

"The Sub-Commander and I think we've found the answer, sir."

"What is it?"

"We'll have the department heads circulate it to members of their departments," Hoshi said, "Being just intra-departmental, the memo wouldn't automatically be added to the weekly reports; the department head would have to add it manually."

"That's great, Hoshi," Archer said, "Distribute it from my desk to all departments, including the Armoury and Engineering, to share with their personnel. Put in a sentence along the lines of 'As soon as Mister Cane is awake and able to answer questions, Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed will interview him and convey his observations about this sector to Starfleet Command.' "

"Oh, that's good, Captain," Sato replied, "If you keep saying things like that, you might have a career in politics, or worse yet, diplomacy."

"If you keep saying thing like that, _Ensign_, you might earn a reprimand in your service file."

"Try to compliment the man, and he throws his weight around!"

"Ya always wan'ned to seek out new life an' new civilizations, Jonny," Tucker said, grinning, "what's wrong wi' politicians?"

"The final draft of the memo is in your inbox file, awaiting changes or your approval," Sato said, getting back to the topic at hand.

"Thank you, Ensign Sato," he said, "I'll be back to the Bridge shortly, via Sickbay; Armoury out." He finally relaxed in the chair next to Malcolm. "Commander, Lieutenant, I suggest you have your S-I-Cs put together your departments' weekly schedule; go over it with them and file as usual. As always, all bets are off when the Tactical Alert sounds."

"Of course, Captain Archer, my first duty is to protect the crew and this ship," Malcolm said, "it's even more important now that my brother is aboard and is unable to defend himself."

"Lieutenant, I suggest that we assign Security's EMTs to Sickbay to assist Doctor Phlox, and to provide additional protection for personnel and equipment there when the Tactical Alert sounds," Ensign Stone said.

"They may be needed in other areas—"

"—They can always be sent from Sickbay to where they're needed, sir."

"Do we have anythin' else to discuss, Cap'n?" Tucker asked Archer.

"Only one last item, Commander Tucker," the captain replied. "I've had numerous requests from Lieutenant Reed and Sub-Commander T'Pol to increase the energy allocation matrix for the phase cannons by an additional ten percent when the Tactical Alert goes off. I've finally had the chance to review everyone's facts and figures, and I want you to increase the phase cannons' energy allocation setting by ten percent—"

"—But, Cap'n—"

"—I know I've told you in the past to hold some energy in reserve," Archer added, "but we've been out here for over a year, and the phase cannons at their current setting don't have enough of an effect on the hostile aliens we've encountered. Work with Lieutenant Reed on resetting the energy allocation matrices at the higher setting—Hess and Stone can do most of the prep work, but the cannons will need Malcolm and you to fine-tune them for the higher setting."

"Yes, sir," Trip replied reluctantly.

"Excuse me, sir, but you do know that's like puttin' out a fire with gasoline, right?" Lieutenant Hess asked. "How soon do you want the upgrade completed?"

"I was going to say next week, but that doesn't take Mister Cane's presence into account," the captain replied, "What would be realistic?"

"In four weeks, at the soonest," she said, "Lieutenant Reed has to review the plans of the energy allocation matrices," Hess continued, "_and_ update the programs because he wrote most of them, what's left were written by Commander Tucker. He and the Lieutenant will have to determine from where in the output stream they want to divert the energy—"

"—Stop there for a moment," Archer interrupted, "Why don't you and Ensign Stone get started on the checklist of what will need to be done?" he instructed. Finally, he scrutinized his Engineer's and Armoury Officer's personnel before he spoke. "I want to make one non-work related item clear concerning the Commander and Lieutenant's relationship—where they sleep is no one's business but their own—now, are there any last questions?"

"No, sir," said Hess and Stone in unison. Archer stood, as did everyone else; the meeting was over. Malcolm nearly fell when he heard the disclosure, but Trip merely stood next to him and looped his long, muscular arm about his shoulder. As they left Reed's tiny office, the SICs and shift managers warmly congratulated Malcolm and Trip about announcing their relationship. Malcolm was embarrassed by the enthusiasm and support from his and Tucker's staff members. Moreover, he was surprised by Archer's easy acceptance of two male command staff members in a relationship together.

"Lieutenant Reed, you have two minutes to brief your Second-in-Command, and you, Ensign Stone, have three minutes to brief the your staff before going to Engineering to work on the checklist with Lieutenant Hess—"

"—Stone, in my planning folder are checklists for every possible Armoury upgrade and overhaul; get the energy upgrade plans and work with Lieutenant Hess on scheduling and implementation," Reed said.

"—Now you're coming with me to the Captain's Mess, Mister Reed," the captain said, gripping the young man's upper arm firmly, but not painfully, "Trip, with me." The three officers crossed the open Armoury space on their way to the door.

"—Captain Archer, I do have a department to run—" Malcolm tried to interrupt.

"Hey, sirs?" Someone called out; they paused at the door and turned to look. "Have fun stormin' the castle, kiddies!" Novokovitch and the rest of the assembled shift managers shouted and waved. Trip gave them a thumbs up, and Archer laughed. Malcolm rolled his eyes, as if saying, _Now do you see the things I have to put up with from you Americans_?

Audibly, he cleared his throat, "—Captain Archer, I have to—"

"Malcolm, you ate only two slices of garlic bread, and you barely touched your lunch," Archer said, "You have to stay well for your brother's sake—"

"—The department is so important—"

"—Malcolm, the department is _not_ more important than your brother!" Archer growled then stopped abruptly when the young officer stopped stock-still. "Malcolm?" He could feel his muscles trembling; "Trip, you take care of Malcolm, I'll get the turbo-lift." Archer strode rapidly down the corridor to an intersection.

Trip stood before his new lover and placed both hands on Malcolm's upper arms. "Malcolm? Deares', please, please say somethin'," the Chief Engineer spoke softly.

His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and he looked up at his taller friend. "Wh—why? Why didn't they _ever_ say anything about a brother?! _My_ brother!" Malcolm said, "Wh—why wasn't he raised with Maddy and me?!" And one of those tears slipped out of his eye and down his cheek. Trip wrapped his arm about his love's shoulder and propelled him down the corridor to the turbo-lift Archer had waiting.

"Well?" the captain whispered to Trip.

"Well, why didn' 'is parents ever say anythin' 'bout 'is brother? Why wasn' he raised with 'is sister Maddy an' him?" Trip repeated in a hoarse whisper as he hugged Reed tightly to himself, as if protecting him from the Captain.

Archer huffed quietly, a substitute for profanity he knew his Armoury officer and Chief Engineer didn't need to hear from him. "Come into the Captain's Mess," he said, keying open the corridor access door, "We'll all have a few shots of liquor while Lieutenant Reed has his second lunch and we mull this over." Trip steered his friend to a chair facing the door while the captain went into the Galley and spoke with Chef about making something for Malcolm.

Archer persuaded Malcolm to perform some breathing relaxation exercises in his chair; Chef tempted the young man to eat by serving bangers and mash, a British pub dish of Cumberland sausages, shredded cabbage and cheese mixed into mashed potatoes. Oven-fresh Irish soda bread also was served with slightly warm Guinness beer, and a bottle of Jameson's Irish whiskey on the table. Malcolm finished his meal, and the three men downed a few pints and a few shots of Jameson's; he mellowed enough to talk a little about his schooling and career, but not his family, to Archer and Tucker. After about an hour and a half of decompression, Archer sent them to Sickbay to have their blood alcohol levels checked by Phlox. They were close to the legal limit, but not over, so the doctor released them to their departments.

Reed and Tucker returned to the Armoury. They discussed the procedures to redistribute energy to systems aboard the ship, argued loudly about equipment schematics, and bickered nonstop about reinforcing the superstructure of Engineering and the Armoury aboard _Enterprise_. All in all, a usual day in the Armoury with an engineer in it.

Their quarreling was so bad by the time the shift was nearly over, both Hess and Stone were at the point of either shooting their senior officers—or inciting a mutiny. One quietly called Archer, and he arrived just before the argument came to blows—or a torrid display of frustrated passion on Commander Tucker's part. He pulled them apart, dragged them to his private Mess (again), and Chef worked his culinary magic for the two emotionally turbulent young officers.  
*****

After they finished eating dinner, they went Malcolm's tiny cabin. Once inside, with the door locked and the 'do not disturb' light on, Trip placed his hands on Malcolm's upper arms, rubbing them. "Do'ya think I c'n p'suade'ja to stan' still long enough so I can undress ya?" he asked, nibbling his love's lips.

"—But why would you want—?"

"—B'cus I wanna take care of ya the way ya oughtta be taken care of—" he replied as he continued kissing Malcolm and began unfastening his uniform. The engineer slowly removed Malcolm's clothing and kissed every part of his body—lips, angled cheekbones, earlobes, his neck, a spot between his shoulder blades he never knew was so sensitive; his delicate, sensitive nipples, indented navel, inner thighs, his knees, the backs of his knees, his ankles, up his inner legs to his thighs—until he was stark naked, shivering, from what he didn't know, in his now dimly lit cabin.

There were rustles of additional fabrics, Malcolm's bed covers and Trip's clothing. He was there, also naked, standing before him. Trip turned his lover around, gently scooped him into his arms, tenderly placed him on his—their—bed, and arranged him comfortably. He lovingly caressed, kissed, and stroked Malcolm until his orgasm rippled along his spine and through his entire slender body. He cried out in joy and disbelief as he felt his and Trip's phalluses rubbing against each other, igniting him with emotions and feelings and sensations he had never felt before that night. Malcolm fell asleep in Trip's arms, his head pillowed on the other man's shoulder.

Malcolm jerked awake in the middle of the night; something or someone restrained him. He tensed, then remembered that Trip was sleeping with him, embracing him tenderly. He and Trip had engaged only in breathless, frantic, frenetic kissing during their first night together. They had yet to discuss Malcolm's previous disappointing relationships, and he had no reason to believe this relationship would last any longer or end any differently. Few of his former lovers stayed the night with him after they had had sex; they would leave his bed if they lived with him, or sometimes, kick him out of his own bed.

Trip was different from all his previous lovers of both sexes. None of his former lovers ever referred to sex with him as 'making love.' The engineer pleasantly burst through his innate shyness and became his friend, unlike any of Malcolm's former lovers. Trip thought of themselves as best friends; he was possibly Malcolm's only friend in his adult life, probably the closest friend in his entire life. Malcolm wondered how he would continue working and living after the energetic, enthusiastic Yank became tired of his unique mix of allergies, neuroses, and weaknesses, and dumped him for a less high maintenance lover. The turbulent thought swept over him, tears welled in his eyes, and a sob caught in his throat.

"Mal, are you alrigh'?" Trip mumbled sleepily.

"I'm fine," he replied, but something in his voice made his new lover suspicious.

"Right," the engineer replied, "Ya soun' like yer brother died, the Cap'n spaced yer puppy, an' yer bes' lover broke up wit'ya. Ya worry too much, ya know, deares' Malcolm."

Malcolm sniffed once. Trip was no tactical genius, but he triangulated the location of his dearest love's face from the sound and covered his mouth with a slow and tender kiss. "I love you," he whispered when their lips parted, "I love you because you're a beautiful man, ya have a beautiful soul, an' ya have a great heart."

Malcolm took a deep, shuddering breath. "I worry about Derek; I worry about what Starfleet will do when they discover he's aboard without the Captain telling them; I worry about the reaction from my—our—parents; I—I don't understand why he wasn't raised with Madeleine and me—" He lowered his head as Trip touched the lightbar. "When w—will you become tired of m—me, m—my allergies, m—my phobias, m—my infirmities—and leave me for a less high m—maintenance lover?" he mumbled faintly.

"C'mere, my darlin' deares' Malcolm," Trip whispered, drawing him into another warm embrace. He lightly kissed Malcolm's lips and brow, nestled his lean and compact body upon him, and tucked his love's head under his chin. "I—I don' think I'll ever get tired of ya, Malcolm, so I don' think I'll ever leave ya; yer stuck wi' me for the long haul." Malcolm snorted in amusement. "An' 'infirmities'?"

"—Weaknesses—"

"—You been readin' too much o' that _ree-fin'd_ Brit-tish _liter'achure_, ya know," Trip drawled deliberately, pleased by the hiss of Malcolm's stifled snigger, "You are the least weak, strongest person I know; you've done things, survived things that reg'lar people just don'. I worry that you're tryin' to prove somethin' to yourself, Mal, an' if ya ask anyone aboard this ship, they'll all tell ya that you're our ship's man, you're our ship's strong right arm."

"What about my allergies, and my phobias?"

Trip frowned. "Well, what about 'em? That's just the way your body's built, at the cellular level; an' I gotta admit, I think you're a perfect person, in a perfect body."

"I'm afraid of drowning, Trip!"

"Okay, that's a weakness, an' it ain' rational," he declared, "but we ain' Vulcans, either, so don' think you're gonna pull off that non-emotional thing they got goin'. It's an irrational fear, an' it's in your head, an' we gotta tweeze it out and fin' _what_ an' where its trigger hides inside ya, an' defuse it like defusin' a bomb—"

"—Trip, I'm not stable! I tried to commit suicide to keep the Captain from damaging the ship to save me when I was pinned by that mine!"

"You were in a lotta pain, an' you'd been shot up with the Doc's happy juice, an' you weren' thinkin' straight—"

"Those are excuses!"

"Those are explanations, my darlin' deares' Malcolm, an' I'll stan' by my explanations agains' anyone or anything," he replied, "against Jonny or the Admiralty, they can' shake my faith in you," he said conclusively. "An' I still think you're a perfect person, in a perfect body," he ended in a whisper, moved his head enough, pressed his lips onto Malcolm's neck, and felt his love's entire body vibrate with unrestrained passion.

"Oh, god, Trip, you're going to be the death of me!"

"Mmm, I hope we die in bed together, doin' somethin' wil' an' lewd," Trip replied, put Malcolm on the bed, and kissed, caressed, stroked, nibbled, and nipped his body until his 'darlin' deares' love' screamed his name and came in his mouth with all the force of a warp-core reactor breach.

Hours later:  
"What was that you said, when I woke up in the middle of the night?"

"When?"

"When I said I was fine."

"Oh—you sounded like your brother died, the Captain spaced your puppy, an' your bes' lover broke up with you; why?"

"If the Captain ever spaced my pet, he'd be spacing a cat. I—I like cats; if we come across one while we're out here, do you think the Captain would let me keep it as a pet?"

"He better, if he wants to keep his Armoury Officer and Chief Engineer happy!" And Trip used his lips, mouth, tongue, and hands to detonate his favorite Armoury Officer again…  
*****


	5. Chapter 5

TITLE: Twins, 5/12-?, Tu/R, Tu/OMC, pre-slash, AU, PG-13 to NC-17.  
AUTHOR: Serit.  
PAIRING/S: Tucker/Reed, Tucker/original male character.  
RATING: (FFN: T+-R); (W5: PG-13 to NC-17).  
WARNING/S: References to child abuse, prostitution, non-consensual sex, violent molestation.  
SUMMARY: What if Malcolm Reed had a twin brother that he‑‑and his parents‑‑didn't know about? An alien bazaar like Rigel X is life-changing for Reed and Tucker. This is my excuse for having twice as much Malcolm (!) in a fic!  
NOTE/S: To all the readers who have asked if I can finish this in 10 or 12 chapters, the answer is _no_, not if you want to have some decent character development! If I include the long-distance scene with Malcolm and Derek asking their parents why Derek wasn't raised with Mal and Maddy, well, that conversation is a whole chapter in itself. This will probably go to 20 chapters, conservatively. But I hasten to add, things get even still **more** interesting in Chapter 6 and later!  
DISCLAIMER in Chapter 1.

* * *

Week One, Day Five:

Reed and Tucker woke at oh-six-hundred the day after their meeting with the captain and Doctor Phlox. Trip left Malcolm's cabin, returned to his quarters, showered, and dressed. Malcolm also showered and dressed in a clean uniform. Trip met him in the corridor and apologized for tiring out his friend and lover the previous night.

They arrived at Sickbay at oh-seven-hundred hours, and Malcolm immediately went to his brother's bedside to greet him. "Good morning, Derek, I'm your brother Malcolm," he said, "You're aboard _Enterprise_; you're in Sickbay, and you're safe here. I'll look after you for as long as you need me until you've recovered. I'm glad we found you, and I'm glad you're my brother. I'll stay with you today, and I'll be here when you wake up. Get well soon, Derek."

"Now that you're here, gentlemen, I'll begin instructing you about taking care of Mister Cane," Phlox said cheerily.

"What do you need us to do, sir?" Malcolm asked.

"I will show you how to accurately measure the ingredients for the protein concentrate," the doctor said, "As Mister Cane's health improves, the formula will change. I hope he will regain consciousness sooner if you talk to him regularly. Now, if you'll come here, I'll show you what we'll use for the next week or so." Phlox guided them to a counter where narrow cupboards above held canisters and small storage boxes of various protein products. He showed them how to measure and mix the thick liquid protein concentrate, how to heat and test that it wasn't too hot to be fed to him, and how to feed the concentrate to Derek via the esophageal tube. After he fed Derek the protein concentrate, Malcolm cleaned up spatters of liquid off his brother, himself, and the biobed. He then took telemetry scans to compare with the overnight telemetry recordings.

While skimming a Sickbay equipment inventory, Trip discovered that a dismantled laboratory glass washer was stored in Sickbay's primary storage compartment. He called Engineering and requested a crewmember to find and bring it up to Sickbay to be constructed and attached to the appropriate energy and plumbing lines. While Trip and Crewmate Fulton built the washer and installed it in one of Sickbay's equipment alcoves, Doctor Phlox and Malcolm examined Cane's urinary and anal catheters.

"I've noticed that Humans become very embarrassed when speaking about their bodies," Phlox said, "why is that?"

Malcolm froze for a moment, thinking about the question and the previous night. "Physiology is considered a private matter by Humans, I think, because it's an emotionally charged subject," he replied carefully. "There have been many, er, moral teachings about the body that have nothing to do with good hygiene or sound medical practice," and he glanced toward ICU's door, in Trip's general direction. "Interpersonal relationships are considered very private because not only are they about physical intimacy, but also emotional intimacy and trust. People‑‑Humans‑‑often connect the physical and emotional, and they value their emotionally intimate relationships very highly," he finished, and sighed.

"Do you think you will have any discomfort speaking about your brother's urogenital system, or actually handling him regularly?" the doctor asked.

"No, he's my brother, after all. Even though we weren't raised together and don't have any bond of trust, I think‑‑I _hope_‑‑he was beginning to trust me before he lost consciousness and lapsed into the coma," he replied, gazing at his brother laying upon the biobed. "I'm most concerned about hurting him unintentionally. I think Commander Tucker would be embarrassed being asked to touch or hold someone who he doesn't know well, or someone who doesn't know him or consider him a friend."

Malcolm learned that his brother was dangerous even when he was comatose. His muscles tensed, his body jerked and shuddered‑‑even his elbows and knees flexed, trying to jab or kick whoever touched him, and he spoke softly to Derek to comfort him. Doctor Phlox asked Trip to join them and hold their patient on the biobed while he explained how to painlessly replace the catheters and identify the symptoms of infections.

Trip balked at the idea of holding down someone he didn't know, just as Malcolm guessed. He leaned close to his friend and whispered, "If you were comatose, I'd move Heaven and Earth to care for you, and I know you'd do the same for me. Derek is my brother, and I know he had a worse childhood than I had, and I feel obliged to make the rest of his life better; please help me do that, Trip."

"I can' refuse ya when ya put it like that, Mal."

Phlox also described how to change the intravenous IV catheters and feeds. Malcolm replaced his brother's urinary and anal catheters as his body shook and twitched.

"Now, you can learn the procedure to bathe your brother, Mister Reed," Phlox said, and gave directions for moving and washing Derek. Malcolm spoke soothingly to his brother as his body shuddered and twitched when he was bathed or touched by people. He applied a gel cleanser and gently scrubbed Derek's body with moist washcloths daily to bathe him, then rinsed and dried him with warm towels.

Doctor Phlox stocked many Human and alien-made medical creams and lotions to heal scars, and Malcolm massaged some of them into his brother's skin daily. He knew he would continue applying the medications to Derek for many weeks to erase the noticeable scars, as time passed, the largest and deepest physical scars would fade. Malcolm thought his brother was more relaxed than he had been during his first week in Sickbay, even though Derek was still comatose.

Malcolm thought Derek was anxious, even though he was in a coma. Phlox reported additional troubling news: Derek had intestinal scarring which was very old; it appeared he had been abused for a very long time. Derek Cane was an identical twin brother about whom Malcolm knew nothing. He wondered if his brother would ever completely heal from his physical and psychological injuries. Malcolm wondered if his brother could ever interact normally with ordinary persons who didn't know how aliens lived. More significantly, he wondered if Derek could ever interact with their own parents.  
*****

Week Two:

Cane's physical condition stabilized by the second week. His vital signs‑‑blood pressure, blood oxygenation, heart function, respiration, and brainwaves returned to normal Human parameters. Everyone aboard the starship was becoming used to the changed schedules in the Armoury, Sickbay, and Engineering. Chef initially grumbled about sending Reed's and Tucker's meals to Sickbay, but the captain spoke with him. Chef simply detailed two additional crewmembers from Operations to the Galley staff to bring meals to Sickbay and retrieve the cart and paraphernalia later.

Malcolm did not donate more blood for his brother; the Vulcan-made blood sequencer worked as well for Human blood as it did for Vulcan blood. He was relieved the first week when another 250 milliliters of blood was drawn off the sequencer and added to Derek's body, which happened every two days until Phlox was certain that Cane had approximately five liters in his circulatory system.

During the second week, Malcolm and Trip were surprised to return to Sickbay one afternoon to find Phlox with a microsurgical device in his hand and magnifiers over his eyes, carefully closing one of the gashes cut into Derek's upper arms that marred his tattoos. After he sealed and bandaged it, he came out of the ICU for a break.

"What were you doing, Doctor Phlox?" Malcolm asked.

"I was repairing one of the cuts through your brother's tattoos," he replied, "I haven't performed such delicate surgery in a long time. It's rewarding to see that I still can execute it."

"Do you know what those tattoos mean?" Trip asked.

"They're Orion rank marks; each band is like one of your rank pips: ensign, lieutenant, and so on," the Denobulan doctor explained. "If Mister Cane had received a black band on his upper right arm, he would have become a warlord, able to organize his own mercenary militia. The merchants who held his indenture were perhaps worried that if he received his last rank mark, their syndicate could have freed and promoted him over them‑‑which may be why he was charged with treason and theft."

The medical creams and lotions healed the smallest scars in about two weeks. Malcolm would continue applying them to his brother for many weeks to erase the noticeable scars, and then, as time passed, the largest physical scars would fade. He also thought his brother was more relaxed than he had been during his first week in Sickbay.

Malcolm repeated his greeting to Derek many times per day, and after a few embarrassing interruptions, Trip had heard it at least two dozen times within the first two weeks they spent caring for Malcolm's brother. One morning when the Armoury Officer had to deliver a report to Captain Archer, Trip arrived at Sickbay first, and fifteen minutes later, Malcolm arrived, and found his best friend sitting by Derek's bedside, holding his frail hand, speaking to him soothingly. "Hi, Derek; I'm Trip Tucker, frien' of your brother Malcolm. You're aboard _En'erprise_; you're in Sickbay, an' you're safe here. Malcolm's my bes' frien', an' my deares' love, an' I'd do anythin' to make him happy; that includes helpin' him look after you for as long as you need him until you're recovered. I'm glad we found you, an' I'm glad you're Malcolm's brother. We'll visit you tomorrow, an' Malcolm an' me will be here when you wake up. Get well soon, Derek."  
*****

Week Three:

During the third week, Derek began experiencing REM (rapid eye movement) sleep episodes that were apparently nightmares in Phlox's opinion. Severe muscle spasms through his body, increased heart and brain wave activity, and heightened blood pressure during the events supported the doctor's diagnosis. Phlox was concerned that Derek's recovery would be slowed if the nightmares continued, so he asked Malcolm to carry a communicator at all times. When the doctor sent an alert, day or night, he went to Sickbay and spoke soothingly to his brother, calming him.

At the end of the third week of Cane's stay in Sickbay, Archer asked T'Pol to stay in the Captain's Mess a bit longer after lunch. "Daniels, if you see Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed enter the Mess hall, please have them to join us," he asked his steward.

"Yes, sir."

"Do you wish to speak to us about something?" T'Pol asked.

"I'll tell you more when Malcolm and Trip are here," he replied, and Reed and Tucker arrived a few minutes later.

"You wan'ned to see us, Cap'n?" Trip asked anxiously.

Reed looked professional as usual, except for the distress evident in his grey-blue eyes. "Has Starfleet found out about Derek?"

"To the best of my knowledge, no," Archer replied. "Come in and sit, please." They sat, Tucker to Archer's right and Reed next to him. "I had a meeting with Doctor Phlox late this morning, and he updated me on Mister Cane's current condition. It's been nearly a month since he came aboard, and his most serious injuries have stabilized and are healing." He lowered his head and was silent for what seemed like a long time to Malcolm Reed. "Are we doing the right thing by keeping Derek aboard the ship while he's comatose?"

"You‑‑you don' wan' Derek removed from the ship, do ya?" Trip asked. Malcolm appeared horrified.

"Captain, did Doctor Phlox tell you if there were any other therapies on Earth that would be more beneficial for Mister Cane, as opposed to the care he is receiving aboard ship?" T'Pol asked.

"I asked him that very question, and he said we were doing all anyone could do for Derek," Archer replied.

"Wh‑‑what do you want to do about Derek, sir?" Reed whispered hesitantly.

"Truthfully? I don't know," the captain said, "I guess I didn't expect him to stay comatose for so long." Archer glanced at Reed and realized how anxious his Armoury Officer was. "Malcolm, keep caring for Derek as you and Trip have been doing. I just hope he regains consciousness soon."

"I‑‑I hope so, too, sir."  
*****

Week Four:

Derek's REM episodes were less severe and occurred less often during the fourth week. Malcolm massaged Derek's arms and legs to maintain his muscle tone and to prevent cramps and spasms. Trip studied Starfleet Medical's physiological database for physical therapy exercises Derek would be able to perform once he was conscious again. Whenever Phlox sent an alert by communicator, Malcolm went to Sickbay, where he spoke quietly to Derek, and soothed away his nightmares.

Malcolm was focused on Derek's health and well-being, and Trip suspected that his love's distraction would only grow after Derek woke from his coma. He couldn't resent Malcolm's concentration on his brother, and the mystery of why Derek hadn't been raised with Malcolm worried him as well. Malcolm needed his support and help, regardless of however much time he‑‑they‑‑spent caring for Derek; Trip selfishly hoped the ex-mercenary wouldn't need his brother during a long recovery interval, but knew Malcolm would want to 'be there for' him in ways that his family never was for him.

Late in the fourth week of Cane's recovery, a call from Saiph III was received. "Captain, I'm receiving a very weak signal from the general direction of Saiph III," Ensign Sato announced one afternoon, just before Captain Archer was about to leave the Bridge.

"Can you boost our antenna's gain?" he asked her.

"I can try to enhance our reception by running the frequency analyzer through the deflector array," T'Pol said.

"Do it."

"Yes, sir." "Yes, sir."

A minute or so later, a poor-resolution image of Constable Sakal from Saiph III appeared on the main viewscreen. "Captain Archer, I wished to inquire about WarLord Cane‑‑" Malcolm flinched when he heard his brother referred to as 'WarLord', "‑‑Have his injuries healed? May I speak with him?"

"I would prefer that we speak privately, in my Ready Room," Archer replied, "if you will give us a moment; Hoshi, route it. Travis, full stop; you have the conn, but if Hoshi needs you to move the ship for better reception, do it; Sub-Commander, Lieutenant Reed, you're with me." Archer stood and strode towards his office. Once they were all seated around his desk, Archer commed Hoshi, and Sakal's image appeared on his monitor, moved so the Vulcan constable could see all three officers.

"I'm sorry for the delay and secrecy," Archer said, "Mister Cane fell into a coma shortly after reaching our Sickbay; he has been comatose since. His brother, Lieutenant Reed, has been caring for him. Was there a particular message you wished to relay to him? Lieutenant Reed can give it to him for you when he regains consciousness."

"I am concerned about this unexpected and unwelcome development," Constable Sakal replied gravely, "I discovered which communication frequencies your ship receives, in order to select and securely shield one," he paused briefly. "I suggest you plan a random appearing course that will take your ship closer to Earth without looking as if you are charting such a course deliberately."

"Is this the only message you have for me?" Archer asked suspiciously.

"No, you may wish to record the rest of my message to WarLord Cane, so he will be able to verify the truth of your words when he wakes."

"Please give me a moment to set up our recorder," the captain said as he opened a desk drawer, removed a clean datachip, and inserted it into his recorder. "We're ready, Constable, please go ahead now."

Sakal composed himself to present an even more logical and diplomatic appearance. "This message is to be delivered to WarLord Derek Cane when he is well enough to hear the news," he said and paused for a moment so Cane could prepare himself. "The Matriarchs and Daughters of Orion were enraged beyond all logic or control when they learned that some of their militia commanders and merchants had framed our WarLord Cane for the theft of the classified technology and took him to the barracks instead of our jail," Sakal told Archer, Reed, and T'Pol. "They were even more angered that the mercenaries and merchants had scarred and violated him. Even in the Orion Syndicate, where lawlessness is the norm, scarring someone's honor and rank is not allowed."

"It took approximately one Orion week, but the Matriarchs coordinated their counter-attack with their Daughters in all locations of the Syndicate," Sakal continued. "They simultaneously slaughtered all the merchants and mercenaries on Orion-controlled planets and aboard their ships who had supported the treachery against Cane‑‑including Cane's bed student, who personally betrayed his safety‑‑and him‑‑to the mercenaries and merchants."

"The Matriarchs and Daughters of Orion reported to me that they had planned to make Cane their First WarLord, WarLord of All WarLords, their supreme military leader, admiral and general combined, because his twin brother is in Earth's Starfleet. They would become our military leader and diplomatic liaison," he explained. "The Orions are not superstitious ordinarily, but it is rare for them to successfully bear identical twin males. I do not know when or how they learned that Cane had a living twin brother, but once it was learned and confirmed, the Matriarchs and Daughters accelerated Cane's training and rise through the ranks. Recently, they ordered him to plan reforms and the restructuring of the mercenary militias into a law-abiding, governmental land and space military force representing the Orion Syndicates as a legitimate governmental entity, not a rabble of space pirates."

"Because of the treachery of the merchants and mercenaries, the Matriarchs and Daughters had decided to share with you Humans the technical information they acquired, to level the balance of power in this quadrant of the galaxy, and to help Earth forge treaties with the Vulcans, Andorians, Tellarites, and even the Klingons, if that is possible. Cane's knowledge will be necessary to understand the technical information they sent with him, and the assistance of Cane's Starfleet brother will be needed to make that information fit into your current engines and weapons." Sakal lowered his head, then raised it so he could see Archer and Reed. "When WarLord Cane regains consciousness, please let him see and hear this message. I can only tell you that what he brought aboard your ship is immensely valuable, so valuable that there are probably others who are already in pursuit to keep you from reaching Earth."

Archer was stunned by the news; T'Pol sat silently, apparently absorbing the information and its implications. Malcolm Reed stared at the grainy image of Sakal on the monitor screen and wondered what could be so important that a man would be attacked in his quarters and brutalized for it. "Th‑‑thank you, Constable Sakal, for telling this to us; it makes what happened to Derek a little more understandable," Reed said. "As soon as he regains consciousness and is alert enough to understand what I tell him, I'll let him see your message."

"I suspected that WarLord Cane was more seriously injured than he appeared to be," Sakal said, "Now, we can but hope that he recovers soon to guide and assist you in bringing this information to your Starfleet."

"Is there more news or information you would like us to relay to WarLord Cane, Constable Sakal?" Archer asked after he recovered from the news.

"I have told you everything I know about the situation," Sakal said.

Archer leaned forward and turned off the recorder. "Thank you for this news; Lieutenant Reed will keep this datachip safe and play it for WarLord Cane after he regains consciousness."

"The longer I transmit to you, the more likely it is that mercenaries will locate your position," Sakal said, "Peace and long life to you and yours."

"Live long and prosper, Constable Sakal," Reed answered, and Archer switched off the connection. The Ready Room was quiet for a few minutes.

"I extend good wishes to you, Lieutenant," T'Pol said, "The Matriarchs and Daughters of Orion are the power behind the throne, to use a Human phrase, within the Orion Syndicate. They can control males of many species with their powerful pheromones‑‑for them to have decided to elevate Cane to the status of 'WarLord of All Warlords' is unprecedented."

"But this news leaves me wondering, what is this information Derek has, and where can it be hidden?" Archer asked thoughtfully.

"I don't know, we didn't have any time to speak about anything," Reed said, "but I hope he regains consciousness soon."

"I share your concern, Lieutenant Reed," T'Pol said impassively.  
*****

Week Five:

During the fifth week, Malcolm was repeating his nightly farewell one evening, when his brother's hand twitched in his. "Derek? Derek?!" he said. Even though his brother's hand trembled very much, it weakly squeezed his hand. "Doctor Phlox, Derek moved! He squeezed my hand!"

"Let me see," Phlox replied and examined the life-support monitors, "It seems your brother's condition is improving!" he said, "This is very promising!" Derek's hands continued to tremble and feebly squeeze Malcolm's or Trip's hands during the week when they were with him.

Malcolm learned all he could from Starfleet Medical's database about therapeutic massage, so he could help Derek recover his strength when he regained consciousness. Trip decided to learn all he could about physical therapy after coma, so he could help Derek recover his mobility quickly. A benefit of learning massage therapy was that Malcolm could help Trip relax and heal from the bumps and bruises he got working in Engineering. Trip helped Malcolm perform his prescribed physical therapy after he was injured during Security training or on away missions, and both disciplines helped the two young officers relax in each other's arms every night.  
*****

Week Six:

During the sixth week, Derek's hands continued to tremble and faintly squeeze Malcolm's or Trip's hands when they were with him. His REM events, indicating nightmares, became less severe and less frequent. Malcolm was reading a book aloud one evening, loosely holding Derek's hand, when his brother's hand moved again. "Derek?" Malcolm put down his book and turned his attention to his brother. Derek's trembling right hand squeezed his hand again. His grey-blue eyes opened and were fear-filled. "Hello, Derek, I'm Malcolm, your brother," he said, drew near him, and stroked his hair. Derek lifted his left hand, but could only raise it an inch or two before it dropped back to the bed's surface. "Please, don't move," Malcolm said, "you've been comatose, and you're still injured. Close your eyes for a moment, I'll wipe away the mucus that's accumulated today."

Panic and tears welled in Derek's grey-blue eyes, but he closed them as his brother gently cleaned them. He opened them and tried to speak around the intubation lines, but could only whimper. He released Malcolm's hand and tried to lift himself off the bed with both hands, but he was still too exhausted and injured to move. Malcolm focused all his attention on his terrified brother. "You're safe now, you're on _Enterprise_, you're in Sickbay, and you're safe here," he said, "You were seriously injured, and I've been very worried about you. I'll take care of you, Derek, for as long as you need me, until you've recovered."

Derek moaned and gripped Malcolm's hand tightly. He looked up at his brother with a terrified expression in his eyes. Phlox entered the ICU. "Your brother's vital signs have become erratic," he said, "If he continues to be this agitated, I'll have no choice but to sedate him."

"Please don't," Malcolm replied, "I'll convince him to calm down." He leaned forward and placed his hand on his brother's cheek. "Derek, please relax so Doctor Phlox won't sedate you; you must let the intubation line help you breathe." His brother sighed and dropped his head back onto his pillow. He gripped Malcolm's hand tightly and pulled it as close to him as he could in his weakened state. "Do you want me to stay?" Malcolm asked, and Derek nodded as best he could with two critical care tubes in his throat. Malcolm stroked his brother's cheek and murmured his greeting and farewell like a mantra against injuries, pain, coma, and fatigue. Derek tipped his head to press against Malcolm's warm hand. His eyelids drooped and his hand relaxed; Malcolm could tell that he had fallen asleep.

When Trip arrived to accompany Malcolm to his quarters, he discovered a stalemate. Malcolm held Derek's hand, gently stroked his cheek, murmuring constantly, with unshed tears in his eyes. Phlox was struggling to maintain his composure. "What'd I miss?" Trip asked.

"Derek woke," Malcolm whispered, "but he panicked when he felt the tubes down his throat. I got him to relax and fall asleep, but he wants me to stay with him. Phlox wants me to leave now, but I think I should stay."

"I allowed your involvement as long as neither of you stayed overnight in Sickbay," Phlox said, "and Captain Archer agreed to support me in my decision."

"Yeah, Doc, but the situation just changed," Trip said, "I think we oughtta ask the Cap'n what he thinks." He left ICU to call Archer's quarters from the intercom in the exam area.

When he arrived, Captain Archer was pleased to learn that Cane was conscious; but he was irritated that Malcolm wanted to stay longer with him. "Malcolm, I think Phlox is right; he'll call you when your brother wakes again."

"You didn't see how alarmed he was, sir," Malcolm said, "I understand why Doctor Phlox thinks it's a good idea, but I'd like very much to stay and explain away his fears."

"Mister Reed, he has nothing to fear," Phlox said, "he's in Sickbay, on a Starfleet ship. He's perfectly safe."

"Doc, how much information about Starfleet an' Earth do you think these aliens get out here, 'specially if there's no Vulcan Embassy around to forward the news?" Trip asked.

"I don't think the Orion Syndicates would tell people living in the areas they control that another species has launched a warp-capable spaceship," the alien doctor replied hesitantly.

"So, if he hasn't heard much about Humans in space or Starfleet, would Derek know what being on a Starfleet ship means?"

"What's your point, Trip?" the captain asked.

"In a place like Saiph III, would an injured person of any species receive medical treatment if he wasn't powerful, or part of a powerful group?" Trip sighed and ran his hand through his hair, "Would he be safe if he was asleep or unconscious, unless he was in a secure location‑‑or unless he had a companion he could trust to care for him?"

"Ah, I think I understand now, Mister Tucker," Phlox said, with more warmth and concern in his expression than he showed earlier.

"Please explain, Phlox," Archer said irritably.

"Mister Cane probably has not heard much about Starfleet," the doctor replied, "and I believe his contacts with Humans were unpleasant before he was indentured to the Orion mercenaries. His dealings with other aliens certainly haven't been pleasant since."

"Are you changing your mind?" Archer asked, "Are you letting Malcolm stay overnight?"

"What if we compromise?" Phlox said, "Mister Reed, you may stay until your brother wakes on his own; you and I will explain to him that he is safe, even when you're not here. I'll give him a very mild sedative to help him sleep, and you'll return to your quarters. Is that fair?"

The young man nodded and looked to Captain Archer. "Yes, that's fair, and I'll agree to it, sir. I hope Doctor Phlox and I can convince Derek to trust us."

"Good, I'll let both of you take care of it." Archer turned to leave ICU, but paused, "If it seems that Mister Cane may sleep through the night, give me a call. We'll just explain it to him tomorrow morning, all right?" Reed nodded, relief softening his usually restrained expression.

An hour and a half later, Derek shook himself out of a REM sleep nightmare; Malcolm still held his hand tightly and was gently stroking his face. He sighed in relief and pressed his cheek into his brother's warm hand. "Derek, I can't stay with you all the time," Malcolm said, "I have to return to my quarters and sleep, but I'll be back in the morning." Derek appeared anxious and gripped his brother's hand tightly.

Phlox entered ICU and sat in the chair on the other side of the biobed; Derek looked uneasily from his brother to the alien doctor. "Mister Cane, I am Doctor Phlox, and I'm the Medical Officer here aboard _Enterprise_. I and my staff will care for you when Lieutenant Reed isn't here. We are required to care for any injured Humans without adequate medical facilities aboard their own ships, or who are stranded on alien-controlled planets. You will continue to receive medical treatment here until your injuries have healed."

"Derek, you're in _Enterprise_'s Sickbay and you're safe here. Right now, you're too injured to stay with me in my quarters," Malcolm said, "but Doctor Phlox will release you as soon as your condition is stable. I'll look after you for as long as you need me until you've recovered."

"I want to give you a mild sedative to help you sleep without nightmares until morning," the doctor told him.

Derek still appeared terrified, but Malcolm continued gently stroking his cheek. "I trust Doctor Phlox; I'm here often enough‑‑I'm the Armoury Officer for the ship," he said. "I know Phlox is trustworthy; I wouldn't let him give you anything if I didn't trust him. Please relax and let him give you the sedative, and I'll be here when you wake up in the morning."

Their patient looked from one man to the other, then turned his eyes to his brother's face; after gazing at him for what seemed like a long time, he nodded as best he could. Phlox introduced the sedative into the IV line flowing into Derek's left arm. Malcolm murmured his farewell as Derek's eyelids drooped, his hand relaxed, and he fell asleep. He kissed his brother's brow before he stood to leave the ICU.

"Good night, Mister Reed," Phlox said as he put away the inject-gun.

"Good night, Doctor Phlox; please call me if his condition changes," Malcolm said and yawned, "I'm going to my quarters; will you send the Captain a message for me, please?"

"Of course."

Malcolm Reed was in his quarters within five minutes. He was out of his uniform and in Trip Tucker's arms within eight minutes, and they were sound asleep within two minutes.  
*****


	6. Chapter 6

TITLE: Twins, 6/12-?, Tu/R, Tu/OMC, pre-slash, AU, PG-13.  
AUTHOR: Serit.  
PAIRING/S: Tucker/Reed, Tucker/original male character.  
RATING: This chapter, PG-13; story, PG-13 to NC-17.  
WARNING/S: References to child abuse, prostitution, non-consensual sex, violent molestation.  
SUMMARY: What if Malcolm Reed had a twin brother that he‑‑and his parents‑‑didn't know about? An alien bazaar like Rigel X is life-changing for Reed and Tucker.  
NOTE: This story will be finished in more than 12, but less than 20 chapters, but I don't know how many exactly. I want to bring some plotlines (and the mystery of Derek's origins) to a close, and I want to keep each chapter short.  
2ND NOTE: Dialog in slashes _/ / and in italics / /_ is Derek writing before he can speak again.  
DISCLAIMER in Chapter 1.

Week Six, Day Four:

Derek panicked when he first awoke and realized that he wasn't dreaming. He felt like he was tied down to a flat surface, his mouth was wide open, and his head was tilted back, with a neck roll and pillow immobilizing his head. Another rolled pillow nestled in the curve of his spine. Large tubes were in his mouth and throat, going deep into his body; he feared he was in some new alien torture device. He opened his eyes and saw a blurry pale blue haze around him. He was afraid that Malcolm, his newly-found brother, had not been able to keep him from the Orion mercenaries, after all. All those things instantly crossed his mind, and then Malcolm entered his unfocused field of vision. He sat next to him, held his hand, and gently stroked his hair with his other hand. Derek tried to raise his left hand, then tried to push himself up with it, but couldn't; he wasn't restrained, he was incredibly weak.

Malcolm spoke kindly to him and said he was safe aboard the Human starship, _Enterprise_. He cleaned Derek's eyes so he could see more clearly, and said he would take care of him for as long as he needed him. Malcolm spoke softly, repeating something that he sensed was familiar: "Derek, I'm Malcolm, your brother. You're aboard _Enterprise_; you're in Sickbay, and you're safe here. I'll look after you for as long as you need me until you've recovered. I'm glad we found you, and I'm glad you're my brother. Sleep peacefully, Derek. I'll be here when you wake up, and I'll visit you tomorrow." Malcolm held his hand securely, gently stroked his face, and repeated his introduction again and again; he sighed, reassured by his brother's presence, pressed his cheek into Malcolm's warm hand, and fell asleep to the sound of his voice.

He struggled out of a nightmare about the continuous torment within the militia blockhouse. He didn't know where he was and his fear returned. The fear made him more ashamed that he hadn't been able to fight _them_‑‑the trainers‑‑off when they came for him that night, and his shame made him more angry. He was safe on the Human ship, however, and Malcolm was still there, holding his hand, stroking his face. He gripped his brother's hand as tightly as he could and his anxiety decreased somewhat.

His brother surprised him when he spoke again. "Derek, I can't stay with you all the time," Malcolm said, "I have to return to my quarters and sleep, but I'll return in the morning before I go onto duty."

The alien doctor entered ICU and sat in the chair on the left side of the bed; Derek looked uneasily from his brother to the doctor. "Mister Cane, I am Doctor Phlox, and I'm the Medical Officer here aboard _Enterprise_," he said, "I and my staff will care for you when Mister Reed isn't here. We are required to care for any injured Humans without adequate medical facilities aboard their own ships, or who are stranded on alien-controlled planets. You will continue to receive medical treatment until your injuries have healed."

He suspected that the terror he felt must have shown on his face, but Malcolm kept stroking his cheek. "Derek, you're in _Enterprise_'s Sickbay and you're safe here. Right now, you're too injured to stay with me in my quarters," his brother said, "but Doctor Phlox will release you as soon as your physical condition is stable. I'll look after you for as long as you need me until you've completely recovered."

"I want to give you a mild sedative to help you sleep without nightmares until morning," the doctor told him.

"I trust Doctor Phlox because I'm here often enough‑‑I'm the Armoury Officer for the ship," Malcolm said with a smile, continuing to gently stroke his face, "I know Phlox is trustworthy; I wouldn't let him give you anything if I didn't trust him. Please relax and let him give you the sedative, and I'll be here when you wake up in the morning."

He looked from Malcolm to the alien doctor, then returned his gaze to his brother's face. His apprehension warred with his fatigue and the ever-present ache of his body. After seeing his brother's concerned expression, feeling his gentle touch, and considering his reassuring words, he nodded as best he could. The alien doctor introduced the sedative into the IV line attached to his left arm. Malcolm murmured his farewell charm as his eyelids drooped, but Derek then felt something he barely remembered from his distant childhood: Malcolm pressed his lips upon his head, above his ugly, broken nose. He wished he was strong enough to hold his brother and feel his warmth, but he sensed the drug in his veins, his hand relaxed, and he faded into the oblivion of sleep.  
*****

Week Six, Day Five:

Even though he regained consciousness, Derek guessed that strong medications were still being used to sedate him. Malcolm said he had been seriously injured, and from what little he could remember at first, he knew he was lucky to be alive. He fleetingly wondered how his brother could pay for his costly medical treatment. He did not remember how he moved, the sounds he made, or what he wore while he was in the softly-lit white room that first week. The ICU was a dream-like safe refuge from his pain and resurfacing painful memories. His resurfacing memories skittered at the edges of his awareness, like sharp-toothed, sharp-clawed sand lizards from Vulcan. The things he was unable to do to prevent his capture, and the things that had been done to him, haunted his nightmares. Whatever medications were being used to dull his pain and sedate him, he hoped they weren't addictive, because he had always needed and used his fast reflexes in his work. He was not fully conscious and could barely focus on Malcolm's face, much less anything or anyone else.

The medications sedated him, but he became more aware of his brother Malcolm and the blond-haired man who always seemed to be with him during his longer moments of wakefulness. He couldn't see much because of his head's position, and whenever someone, anyone, touched his body, he became afraid, then ashamed of being afraid, and then angry because he was ashamed. His brother or the blond-haired man tilted the upper part of his bed onto an angle and someone held him against their body and spoke kindly, while someone did _something_ to his privates‑‑he could sense that much‑‑but he wasn't certain _what_ they were doing. Whenever Malcolm or the blond-haired man spoke softly to him, he became very relaxed and sleepy, and wondered why.

Malcolm and Trip woke before oh-six hundred; Trip returned to his cabin to shower and change uniforms. They met in the Mess hall and ate quickly before going to Sickbay, where Trip mixed the protein concentrate to be poured into Derek's stomach via the esophageal tube. Malcolm always fed Derek in case he awakened during the procedure, regardless of who made the mixture. As the last of the protein concentrate went down the esophageal tube, Derek must have felt the sensation because he woke and panicked. "Derek, don't be afraid! It's all right!" he exclaimed and held his brother so he wouldn't move. "Your lungs, stomach, and intestines have serious injuries; one tube goes into your lungs to help you breathe, and the other goes into your stomach so you could be fed when you were comatose. I've been feeding you by tube since you've come aboard, and I'll continue until your lungs and stomach are healed enough to remove both lines. When that happens, you'll be able to eat whole food directly and begin physical therapy exercises to regain your strength."

Derek moaned when his brother released him and moved away. "Do you want me to stay close to you?" Malcolm asked. He could only moan, lift his right hand, and try to grasp his brother's uniform. "Do you want me to hold you?" He tried to speak around the intubation lines, but could only sigh. Malcolm raised the upper half of his bed; he sat close to Derek, carefully placed his left arm under his brother's shoulders, and his right hand clasped his frail hand. Derek rested his head on his brother's upper arm, closed his eyes, and sighed again. Malcolm felt his brother's taut muscles relax.

A short time later, Doctor Phlox entered ICU and stopped when he saw Malcolm embracing his brother. "Have you finished feeding your brother, Mister Reed?"

When Derek heard the doctor's voice, Malcolm felt his brother's body tense and saw his eyes open, alarm evident in his expression. "Yes, but just as I finished, he woke and seemed upset," he replied, "I calmed him, but he seemed distressed when I let him go. Do you mind if I finish our morning tasks a few minutes later?"

"No, no, I don't mind," the doctor replied, "Please continue as you and Mister Tucker have been. If your brother becomes distressed, you can explain what you're doing and why." He smiled and left ICU.

"Do you feel better now?" Malcolm asked a few minutes later. Derek nodded, but Malcolm thought his new-found brother would prefer being held longer. He moved around Derek's bed; he reviewed the overnight telemetry recordings, took comparison scans, and sent the records to the doctor's console. He spoke gently to Derek and explained what he was doing and why.

When a higher-ranking officer appeared and entered ICU without asking the doctor's permission, a wave of irrational fear washed over Derek. His stomach and heart clenched anxiously. He was certain that Malcolm would be punished for deserting his post, or dereliction of duty, or other serious infraction. "Good morning, Trip," his brother said cheerfully. The monitors on the wall behind Derek's bed began rapidly beeping. "Derek, it's all right; Commander Tucker is my best friend after you; he's the ship's Chief Engineer." Malcolm said, sat in the chair next to his bed and held his hand again. "I hope you remember Trip from Saiph III; he interfered in your truth ordeal because he thought you were _me_, and he thought I was going to die."

Derek turned his head, stunned by his brother's remark. He knew he had seen the tall, blond Human before, but couldn't remember where. He recalled the blond-haired man who was always with his brother earlier in the week, when he was more medicated. He remembered the blond-haired man in a uniform at the Saiph cavern arena, but he first thought the man was just another killer the Nausicaans had hired. He was astonished when the man shot his chain loose, and was confused because the man's expression was desperate and angry at once, as if he was fighting to protect or save something‑‑or someone‑‑

‑‑Malcolm.

"Trip has helped me feed, clean, bathe, and dress you while you were comatose. I know you have good reasons to be wary of strangers, but Trip is my best friend‑‑" Malcolm leaned closer and lowered his voice, "‑‑and my lover. You can trust him as much as I trust him. He'd like to become your friend, and I hope you'll become his friend, too."

Derek was ashamed when he learned that Commander Tucker had cleaned and dressed his body while he was unconscious. Worse, his uncontrolled response to the superior officer's arrival probably had ended his brother's love affair, and possibly his duty post aboard this ship. He felt pathetic, weak, and confused; disordered thoughts tumbled in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, turned his head as best he could, and a weak, shameful tear seeped out of one eye. He hoped his brother wouldn't be too angry at his display of weakness.

"Derek, I'm sorry!" Malcolm swooped in and hugged him firmly, "I didn't mean to sound angry! I'm not angry at you!" Derek didn't understand why they were so composed and comfortable; he had no way to tell Malcolm about his fears, but he moved closer to his brother's warmth.

He heard Tucker sit to the left of his bed and opened his eyes. Over his brother's shoulder, he saw the Commander's head looking down, then heard a device's quiet noises. "Hey, Mal, have you changed Derek's catheters yet?" the man suddenly raised his head and asked.

"No, why?" Malcolm released and covered him with a warm blanket, but Derek wished he hadn't removed his warm physical presence.

"Well, if your brother is kinda wary around strangers, maybe it'd be a good idea for me to back off a bit an' just prepare stuff for you for a while," he said nonchalantly.

Derek saw disappointment in Tucker's eyes; he was confused because he didn't understand their reactions. He didn't want the man to think he was afraid of him‑‑even though he was. He softly sighed and reached his left hand out for the Commander's attention.

"Are you all right?" Commander Tucker asked hesitantly. Derek extended his arm on the bed, even though the inserted, taped-down needle hurt. "Malcolm?"

His brother noticed his outstretched hand. "I think he wants to apologize for being alarmed," Malcolm said, "Why don't you hold his hand?" He reached over Derek's body, clasped the Commander's right hand, and placed it around his brother's left hand. "Derek, don't be afraid of Trip; he's my best friend, and I trust him."

Malcolm left Derek's field of view; and returned a moment later with a slender, sealed item of some sort. He moved the covers off his brother's body and touched his Sickbay pajamas. His muscles tensed; he knew he was safe with his brother, but it didn't matter. The fact that someone was touching his body made him angry, and it made him want to attack whoever was touching him. "You were rather dangerous even while you were comatose, brother," Malcolm said, "Your arms and legs moved; you tried to jab or kick whoever touched you. One of us had to hold you while the other cleaned you, bathed you, or changed your Sickbay pajamas."

He put the item on the bed and came to sit on its edge, near Derek's chest, leaned into his field of view, and placed a warm hand on his brother's cheek. "Doctor Phlox told me and Trip about the kinds of injuries you had when you came aboard the ship. Trip and I know that you're angry; we are aware those people surprised and overwhelmed you. I'm aware they beat, tortured, and assaulted‑‑_raped_‑‑you, for something you didn't do. I realize they did all those things to you _against_ your will, and we know beyond the shadow of any doubt, that you are _not_ to blame for what happened to you‑‑it is _not_ your fault, Derek. Do you understand me? Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

He was taken aback when he heard his brother's kind words; Derek knew that no one in the Orion militia would be so generous or so understanding. He briefly wondered about the type of work Malcolm could find him aboard this ship. If the crew knew about his shameful past, then he knew he needed to exercise constantly, return to fighting trim quickly, to defend himself against other crewmembers. He closed his eyes and nodded with difficulty. "We know you're angry, but please let Trip hold you while I change your catheters," Malcolm added. Derek opened his eyes wide, shocked by the request. "I'm concerned I'll hurt you more if you move about; I'll wash your bottom, change the catheters, then put fresh Sickbay pajamas on you." Derek was so surprised by his brother's word choice that he laughed, but couldn't, and began to cough, which constricted his windpipe around the respiration line. Malcolm introduced aerosol medication into the secondary air system that kept his brother's mouth and trachea moistened and disease-free, and Derek's breathing soon improved. "Are you all right?" Malcolm asked, and he replied with a tilted nod.

"Hi, Derek; I wanna hol'ya, but I don' wanna hurt you if you move while Mal is changin' your catheters," Commander Tucker said anxiously; Derek barely understood his twanging American accent. Tucker carefully placed Derek's arms across his lap, and slowly slid next to him. He moved the IV line over Derek's shoulder, wrapped his right arm about his back, and lay Derek's head upon his shoulder. "I've said this to'ya before: 'I'm Trip Tucker, your brother Malcolm's frien'. You're aboard _Enterprise_; you're in Sickbay, an' you're safe here. Malcolm's my best frien' an' my deares' love,' " his honeyed voice echoed through Derek's head; " 'I'd do anythin' t'make Mal happy, an' that includes helpin' him care for you for as long as you need him until you've recovered. I'm glad we foun' you, an' I'm glad you're Malcolm's brother. We'll care for you for the present time, and Malcolm an' me will be here with you as much as we can.' "

Derek thought he became drowsy whenever Malcolm or Commander Tucker said their greeting. He wondered if the alien doctor had a mind machine that hypnotized him when certain words or phrases were spoken. The Commander's body was very warm, like his brother's. He was angry that Malcolm was touching his genitals, and he hoped his brother wouldn't harm him.

"I'm removing your pajama bottoms now, Derek," he said, "I'll wash you first, then replace your catheters." He worked quickly but gently, soaped him up, then rinsed him off; he replaced the urinary and anal catheters as his brother's legs twitched, and he thrashed in the Commander's arms.

" 'S'all right, Derek," Commander Tucker said as he resisted, "he's replacin' the anal catheter now, and then he'll dress you up."

"Now I'm putting a clean pair of pajama bottoms on you; move your hand if the fabric pulls uncomfortably against you anywhere," he said and then tucked the blanket over Derek's lower body. "Now, I'll wash your top half now." Commander Tucker gently released him, after he rubbed his back and arms. Malcolm removed his top, then moistened a washcloth and applied a gel, gently cleaned his face, neck, arms, and hands, briskly dried him with a warm towel, and wrapped him into a clean Sickbay pajama top. When he finished, he dropped the used materials down a chute. He went to a sink to wash his hands thoroughly, returned to the bed, took Derek's hand in his, and placed his hand on his brother's cheek. "I know you're angry when people touch you," he said, "but I have to keep you clean, or you'd get ill from additional infections."

"I'm thinkin' that now Derek is awake an' aware of everything goin' on, you may want to spend a bit more quality time with him," the Commander said.

"Are you leaving me with the work?" Malcolm said drily, his thin lips curled into a half-smile.

"We got monthly reports to give to the Cap'n, an' I wanna go over all the work Hess and Stone have done on the energy allocation matrices," Tucker said. "Tell you what, I'll bring lunch back for all of us. Lemme ask Phlox about getting' somethin' like real food for Derek‑‑"

The doctor popped his head around a corner of ICU, "I'm sorry, Commander, Mister Cane will need the intubation lines for another four weeks, at the least."

"Well, can't we figure out a happy medium?" Tucker replied with a pout, "It's not like he's maintaining his weight on this protein mix of yours, Doc."

"He can't really taste anything now, Trip," Malcolm said.

"He can smell it while you're pourin' it down his tummy-tube."

"That is true, Mister Reed, the Commander has a point," the alien doctor replied. "Let me see what's on the menu today; I'll call Chef and try to arrange something with him."

The commander and doctor left ICU, and Malcolm smiled at his immobile brother. "I think Trip's right this time, Derek; I don't know about you, but I could use a short nap about now." He went around to the left side of the bed, raised and locked the guard rail, and returned to his brother's side. He moved Derek's arms across his lap, carefully seated himself next to his brother, wrapped his left arm around Derek's back, and placed his brother's head upon his shoulder. Derek moaned softly, and gripped Malcolm's hand in his.

He glanced at his brother and smiled. "You like this, don't you? We must have been this close within Mum‑‑" he frowned, "‑‑I'm sorry, Derek, I don't know what happened; I have no idea why you weren't raised with Maddy and me‑‑" he gasped, "That's right, you don't know! You have a sister named Madeleine, she's five years older than we are, and she used to baby me terribly until I was sent to boarding school‑‑" He looked at Derek again, to see him sleeping quietly on his shoulder, the edges of his mouth turned up in the most he could smile with the intubation lines in his mouth. Malcolm lightly kissed his brother's brow, which earned him another quirked smile. He laid his head on Derek's, and he was asleep within moments, dreaming of happier times to come.

Doctor Phlox silently entered the ICU, and raised Trip Tucker's antique digital camera. Tucker prepared himself and the doctor for the time when Derek regained consciousness; he gave the doctor a lesson on working the device, and left it in his office, so Phlox could snap photos when Malcolm and Derek shared quiet time together. With his arms around his thinner, more pale brother, Malcolm looked fiercely protective and utterly relaxed in a way Phlox never saw when the Armoury Officer was usually in Sickbay, injured and guilt-ridden about being unsuccessful when protecting the ship, or her captain and chief engineer, more usually. The Denobulan took three photos, one from the foot of the bed, and two from each side, for the scrapbooks Tucker was creating on his computer for Malcolm, Derek, and the Reed family. The two sleeping men appeared younger than their actual age; Phlox knew Derek Cane would soon rebuild his muscles and regain his strength. He suspected that the Reed brothers would become a well-matched pair of qualified officers‑‑they would become _Enterprise_'s and Starfleet's defenders.

After that secret task, Phlox called and asked Chef to finely grind two large cooked chicken breasts, add pureed herbs and bread crumbs, and thin it with chicken gravy for Derek. It would become a slurry with the addition of liquid vitamins and proteins in Sickbay. Commander Tucker returned at 12:00 hours, pushing a squeaking cart that held their lunches. Doctor Phlox heard him enter; he came out of his office and motioned for silence. Tucker understood, smiled, and looked through the window into ICU, grinning when he saw Malcolm and Derek sleeping peacefully on the bed, his best friend protectively holding his brother. He sighed, knocked loudly on the door, opened it and entered, pushing the cart into ICU. "I hate to wake up you gents, but our lunches are here."

He looked out to make sure no one could see them through the window, and leaned over to quickly kiss Malcolm's lips and Derek's brow. Derek, still muzzy from being awakened, was stunned. Malcolm kissed his brow as well, but also withdrew his arms and stood. "Commander, don't tease my brother, or you'll answer to me," he said sharply.

"I certainly don' want that t'happen," Tucker replied, "Your brother looks a lot like you, you know," he said, but he didn't make the next obvious remark. "I'll make the mix," he said flatly, going to the cupboard where supplies were stored. Derek could smell warm food even through the intubation mask; a fruity chicken, rice, and sautéed spinach were ready for the Commander and Malcolm. Tucker measured and mixed liquid vitamins and proteins for Derek's meal. Malcolm spooned the chicken and gravy sauce into Sickbay's food processor, added the extra ingredients, and turned on the device, pulsing the mixture until all the ingredients were combined into a smooth liquid thin enough to be poured down Derek's feeding tube into his stomach.

Derek suddenly felt uneasy and did not understand why. His brother poured the liquid into a pitcher and put a lid on it. He left it on the counter and returned to sit by Derek's side. "You seem nervous about this," he said, "Feeling the liquid go down your esophageal tube is a disturbing sensation, and you should let Doctor Phlox administer a fast-acting sedative, so you won't panic. Please don't worry, Derek, I won't let anything happen to you; you won't be unconscious for long, Trip and I will be eating our lunch here when you wake."

"Chef made vanilla pudding 'specially for your dessert," Tucker added.

Malcolm frowned and turned to the Commander, "Derek won't be able to have the pudding, it's too thick to go down the esophageal tube."

"Uh-uh," Tucker replied, "He thinned it down with ice cream an' milk, an' made it into a vanilla puddin' milk shake."

Derek smiled at Malcolm and tilted his head to the right, which was as close to a nod as he could manage. "I think that's his 'yes,' Trip," his brother said, "will you get Phlox? He won't let us administer hypospray shots," he whispered confidentially to Derek. Malcolm gripped his right hand and stroked his cheek with his left. The Commander brought the alien doctor, returned to Derek's left side, and held his left hand supportively. Derek abruptly felt the coolness he associated with the sedative. His eyelids closed, and he fell into oblivion's blackness.

Derek floated awake after what seemed like hours, but his stomach felt filled, and he seemed warm. He heard Commander Tucker still eating his lunch, but he couldn't hear where Malcolm was. He was about to panic, but then heard the clink of crockery and metal; Malcolm setting his tray on the squeaky cart. His steps receded from him for a short time, then he heard Malcolm walking closer, and he returned to his view, stooped over him, and kissed his brow. Even through the intubation mask's filter, Derek could smell spearmint, and figured it out for himself: Malcolm had brushed his teeth after he finished his lunch.

He wondered about his own teeth and his general health; he did the best he could when he was aboard his aunt's cargo ship, considering. He took his few clothes, boots, a bar of soap, four toothbrushes, a tube of toothpaste, and the ship's smaller first aid kit when he was left indentured to the Orion militia. He remembered being taunted for being weak by other aliens when he was being trained. Those aliens soon learned from contact with other Humans that he was much stronger than he first appeared. His time on high gravity space stations and planets strengthened his bones and muscles to make him a formidable soldier.  
*****

Week Six, Day Seven:

The next morning, Derek felt as if he had surfaced from deep water into awareness after what seemed like hours or days; his stomach felt filled and warm, and after an initial shudder, the warmth surrounded him. He realized that Malcolm sat next to him on the bed, one arm under his shoulders, his other across his chest, making sure the heated blanket stayed wrapped around him.

"Good morning, Derek; you're aboard _Enterprise_; you're in Sickbay, and you're safe," his brother said, "I'll look after you for as long as you need me until you've recovered. I'm glad we found you, glad you're my brother. Rest and get well, Derek; I'll stay with you this morning, feed your meals to you, and care for you." His brother's familiar words reassured him, but he wondered what would happen to him when he would be well enough to leave Sickbay. He felt confused, frustrated, and afraid‑‑and angry because he felt afraid. He was annoyed because he couldn't speak to Malcolm. What was worse, he could hear other persons besides the alien doctor speaking and moving around outside the ICU chamber, but he usually couldn't see anything because of the bed and the tilted position of his head and neck.

Derek awoke shortly after dinner, and it was more of the same‑‑his stomach felt filled and warm, and Malcolm's warm embrace surrounded him again. But he wanted to talk to his brother.

Malcolm suspected that, from the frantic look in his eyes, Derek wanted to moan, struggle, and try to remove the intubation mask so he could talk, or otherwise try to communicate with him. "I know you want to speak to me, and I'll try to figure something out, but I don't know what I can do‑‑Doctor Phlox makes all the medical decisions, and not even the Captain can order him to do something against his medical judgment." He felt something odd on his palm, and looked down; his brother was tracing patterns on his palm with his index finger. He watched Derek repeat the same design over and over, and then he understood. He smiled, wrapped his arms around his brother's shoulders, and hugged him gently. "Trip?"

"What? Is he okay? Do you need‑‑"

"We're fine, Trip," he replied, "Does Engineering have datapadds for direct design?"

"Uh, yeah, I can put a piece of paper on it and use a pencil," the engineer replied, "or just draw directly on the screen with a stylus‑‑" then he understood, "Lemme call Engineering."

Too many minutes later, Malcolm propped up his brother's hand and arm with a pillow and held the design padd so he could see it clearly. "I hope this works."

___/ /_ Im sorry I feared your rank, sir, _/ /_ Derek first scrawled with his index finger, ___/ /_ I feared Malcolm be punished for being with me instead of at post._/ /_

"Derek, you don' hafta apologize t'me, you're injured," the Commander said, baffled by Derek's cryptic comments, "It's your seventh day awake, an' we shouldn' be crowdin' ya. You don' hafta 'fear my rank', or stick to old-fashioned regulations about fraternizin' with senior officers‑‑"

"Trip, don't confuse him," Malcolm said, "He needs to get well without worrying about us or anything else."

___/ /_ Plse dont hurt Malcolm because of me, _/ /_ Derek wrote hurriedly, ___/ /_ n plse dont make him leave the ship. _/ /_  


Commander Tucker suddenly appeared grief-stricken and disappointed, moisture welled in his eyes, and he leaned forward in his chair. "Derek, y‑‑you can' believe that I'd ever do anythin' to hurt M‑‑Mal or y‑‑you. I'd hurt myself before I'd ever hurt either of you, or ever let any harm come to you."

___/ /_ Im sorry, sir, to insult your honour, _/ /_ he wrote, ___/ /_ You can punish me, not Malcolm. _/ /_ He hung his head and one lone tear trailed down his face.

"Please look at me, please," the Commander stammered in a whisper, barely touching Derek's cheek with his shaking fingertips. Malcolm gave Trip a facial tissue, and the pathetic tear was dabbed away. Derek opened his eyes, and Malcolm nodded at his brother in encouragement. "I'd never hurt Malcolm or you, or let any harm come t'ya," Tucker said softly, "You haven' insulted my honor, an' there's no reason for me to punish you‑‑or Mal. You don' deserve any punishment, Derek; you need our help, an' peace an' quiet so you can heal."

___/ /_ Yes, sir, _/ /_ he scrawled, not understanding or believing what the Commander said.

"Please trust Trip," Malcolm said, "You see only his rank, but he cares about me very much, and he cares about you as a friend. I care about you more than I can say in words, and I'll look after you for as long as you need our help; Trip and I will be with you."  
*****

Week Seven, Day One:

The next day was more of the same. Derek was still angry while his brother Malcolm cleaned him after he awakened; he gripped Commander Tucker's wrist as the larger man held him against his warm body. The Commander stroked Derek's pajama covered chest trying to calm him, but it had an entirely different effect. The man's gentle touch and soft voice vibrated through him‑‑amazingly, his anger at being touched turned into an involuntary, free-floating semi-arousal that shimmered hotly down his spine.

The fatigue from his anger and unexpected arousal let him sleep through the rest of the morning. He shook himself awake with the same full feeling in his stomach. Malcolm's warm embrace surrounded him, and he leaned into his brother's warmth. Derek wondered if he could truly trust the Commander in the same way he could trust his brother; then he wondered if he could trust himself when he was with the Commander, falling asleep considering the notion.

The ship suddenly shuddered without warning, a loud, dissonant klaxon began sounding, and Derek nearly had heart failure as he was shaken awake. He heard two persons run into Sickbay and enter ICU, but they weren't Malcolm and the Commander, and he feared they would attack him. A moment later, the alien doctor came in and leaned over him. "Mister Cane, we seem to have a problem communicating with occupants of another spacecraft," Phlox said too cheerfully while an attack was happening. "Crewman Gerrold and Crewman Zahn are from Security‑‑" the first husky young man leaned over him, deferentially said, "Pleased to meet you, sir," then a second appeared and said, "Hello, sir."

"‑‑They'll stay in Sickbay to secure the area until any disagreements are resolved and our alien friends leave," the doctor continued, "I'll let you know if your brother or Mister Tucker will be able to visit for dinner," and he moved out of Derek's line of sight. "What will you gentlemen be doing here exactly?" he said to the Security crewmen.

"Lieutenant Reed ordered us to examine Sickbay for defensive positions," the first Security crewman, Gerrold, replied. "He and the Captain are designing protocols during attacks to secure public areas aboard ship and embed Security in key areas to repel hostiles during attempted boardings."

"I don't think aliens would attack a medical facility," the alien doctor protested.

"Doc, if they're shooting first, they're probably not very peaceable," the second Security crewman, Zahn, said. "Oh, the Lieutenant also wanted us to tell you that we're two of Security's EMTs, so if you have injured personnel coming in, we can assist if you want us to."

"Ah, that's very kind of Lieutenant Reed," Phlox said, "He's a very considerate officer, isn't he?" "Yes," "Yes, he is," the crewmen replied, and the doctor returned to the outer area.

"What _are_ we doing here exactly?" Zahn asked.

"Examining Sickbay for possible weak points if hostiles try to enter," Gerrold replied, "Check for any Jeffries tubes or air ducts opening into Sickbay. We'll have to make sure they lock from this side so no one can enter, unless they're personnel and they have access codes."

"Right; where do you want me?"

"In the foyer; call and have Gibson stay with you. I'll look after Mister Cane if the Guv can't make it down here; I think he sent two marksmen to Engineering; have Sterling go there."

"Okay, pal," Zahn said and left ICU.

Derek heard Gerrold's devices softly chirp and beep as he walked around the ICU, and then sat where Malcolm usually did, on his right side. He shuddered involuntarily.

"Mister Cane, please don't be alarmed; I'm here to protect you when your brother can't be here. I was told you've been away from Earth for some years, and you may not remember that _E‑M‑T_ is the abbreviation of _Emergency Medical Technician_; we provide medical treatment during emergencies and accidents." He was silent for a time, working on his device, and then spoke again. "Only, _please_ don't tell Lieutenant Reed that his personnel call him 'the Guv' when he's not in earshot‑‑he'd probably pass out from embarrassment, and we mean it fondly‑‑and he'd definitely collapse if he heard that. Please relax as much as you can with that awful noise‑‑" it muted suddenly.

The door opened. "The alert was distressing our patient, and Ensign Sato told me how to decrease its volume in ICU," the alien doctor said. There were multiple chirps on devices; "Sickbay, Phlox here," he replied crisply. A tinny sound, it must be a communications device, came from somewhere in the room, and then something snapped closed. "Commander Tucker was injured in Engineering; luckily, he didn't lose consciousness. I'll let you know if I'll need your assistance, Crewman Gerrold," the doctor said and the door closed.

"If the Commander's conscious, he's gonna wish he was out cold when the Guv secures general quarters, then comes down and reams him out," Gerrold remarked, smiling. "Don't worry about them, sir. They pretend nothing's happening between them, then someone catches a glimpse of them off-duty in the Observation Lounge, snuggled up together in an armchair, all starry-eyed, lookin' at the stars. They're kinda sweet‑‑just _please_ don't tell them everyone aboard thinks so."

Another chirp on a device, Gerrold opened it, and Derek could hear his brother: "All personnel, secure general quarters. Off-duty non-essential personnel remain in your quarters unless there is structural damage; call it in to Engineering and notify the Quarter Master if you need alternate accommodations. Ensign Stone, please report to the Bridge; Bridge out."

Derek and Gerrold could hear personnel entering the outer area of Sickbay. Staffers bustled around, calling for equipment and medical supplies. Minutes later, the outer area became silent, and they heard people noisily running out through the main doors. Derek heard his brother's loud, clipped voice, even through the soundproof wall separating ICU from the rest of Sickbay; he was shouting at Commander Tucker. Derek smiled, and the crewman smiled with him. Malcolm suddenly stopped speaking; after a moment, Gerrold stood. "Tucker's kissing your brother," he said, "It seems that Commander Tucker broke his left arm, but he seems to be doing okay with his right." The Security crewman leaned over him, shook his right hand, and said, "It was a pleasure and an honor guarding you, Mister Cane. On behalf of the Security and Armoury staff, please get well soon."

The door opened, Gerrold released Derek's hand, and the crewman moved away from him. "At ease, Gerrold," Malcolm sounded moist and hoarse, the kind of moistness from swallowed tears. "Do you have anything to report?"

"No, sir; I scanned the ICU area, and Gibson added to Zahn's examination of the rest of Sickbay. I'll work up a report and get it to you by tonight."

"Make it tomorrow morning; please clock this as on-duty time," Lieutenant Reed said stiffly. "When you go back to the Armoury, would you please help Ensign Tanner with checking the phase cannons? After you've had your dinner, of course; I know that most of the Armoury staff will be working extra shifts, but you won't after the phase cannons are stabilized. Were there any problems with Mister Cane?"

"None at all, sir; of course, his blood pressure went through the roof when he heard that horn you convinced the Captain to keep as the alert klaxon," Gerrold replied, "but he calmed down after Doctor Phlox explained what was going on. I think he even dozed for awhile."

"As you were, then; have dinner and get down there to help Tanner," Reed concluded, "Please remind him that staff _are_ required to take meal breaks even when they're working late."

"Yes, sir," Gerrold replied. "Have a good night, sir," he said and left ICU quickly.

Disheveled and grimy, Malcolm came to his brother's side and hugged him tightly. "Thank God you're all right, Derek!" he murmured. Derek could smell smoke on his brother's uniform, and he gripped Malcolm's arms as tightly as he could. Both young men relaxed into each other's clasp, and they stayed that way for some minutes. Malcolm sighed anxiously. "I'm sorry you were startled by the attack," he said, "It was an Enolian freighter, but the weapons signatures were definitely Nausicaan. I've come to feed you, but we don't have time to sedate you. I'll mix a liquid protein meal, but it won't be as filling‑‑but I know you can do this without panicking‑‑" He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

The door opened, and a squeaky-wheeled cart clattered into ICU. "I arrived at the Mess when Ensign Stone called from the Bridge, sir," Gerrold announced, "Because he heard Commander Tucker was injured, he ordered dinners for the Commander, Mister Cane, and you, and instructed me to deliver them. Mister Cane has the Irish lamb and Guinness stew that's gone through the food processor, Commander Tucker has it straight up, and you have the ham club. Chef said he'd have one of the stewards pick up the cart later, but they have a lot of overloaded surge protectors in the bulkheads, so I'll make sure the Commander eats, and return the cart myself after you've finished your meal, sir."

"Gerrold, why does this excuse to persuade me to eat sound a little _too_ convenient, even for me to believe?"

"Probably because Chef had everything ready for me before I got the call from Ensign Stone, and Captain Archer was in the Mess hall‑‑the blown surge protectors were in his Mess." He drew closer to Lieutenant Reed. "The captain just happened to put this towel-wrapped wine cooler on the bottom shelf of the cart, sir‑‑I don't know what's in it, of course."

Derek heard a clink of glass, and his brother began laughing; he feared Malcolm was hysterical. Commander Tucker entered ICU; his left forearm was in a cast and sling. He leaned against the wall, holding an amber beer bottle in his right hand. "Commander Tucker, should we suspect that our captain is _bribing_ me to eat my meals?" Reed laughed.

"As long as ya don' get _pissed_ on this Guinness," Tucker replied, "Novokovitch got slammed into the reactor housin' an' has my concussion; Phlox was yellin' at me to stay in bed while he was puttin' him into the scanner, but I wanted to make sure you won' have any problems with Derek."

"Gerrold, would you please escort Commander Tucker back to his biobed?" Reed ordered his Security crewman.

"‑‑Oh, no, you don't, Mal!" Tucker exclaimed and crossed the room. "We started this together, an' you do _not_ change the rules mid-stream!" Derek heard two glass bottles ring against each other and clang against the container into which they were placed. "Gerrol', get out there an' keep Phlox from comin' in here!"

"Commander, you have a broken arm! You could be hurt even more if Derek thrashes about!" Reed shouted, "Furthermore, Crewman Gerrold is on my staff, so don't give him orders!"

"Sir, this is a personal matter, and I don't belong here," Gerrold replied, "You're like Atlas with the ship on your back, and every crewman in the Armoury and Engineering would help you in a New York minute‑‑but _your_ Chief Engineer is here now‑‑"

"‑‑Gerrold‑‑" Reed growled authoritatively.

"‑‑You can't demote me; you could reprimand me, but I don't care; I'm going back to Rhode Island when my tour's over, and I think your brother knows how much he and Commander Tucker mean to you‑‑" He stopped when Derek grabbed his brother's sleeve and tugged, hard.

"Well, someone has voiced his opinion, sir; it's a two-to-one vote, I'll report to Doctor Phlox now‑‑" Gerrold said to the Commander. He leaned close to Derek and shook his left hand. "It was a pleasure helping you, Mister Cane; please get well soon, and visit the Armoury when you've been released." The Security crewman stepped back and saluted Derek before he turned and saluted Reed. "Commander Tucker, please call me when Lieutenant Reed has finished his dinner, so I can return the cart to the Galley‑‑"

"‑‑Dennis Gerrold, get out, or I will write you up!" Malcolm exclaimed.

"Yes, sir," the crewman replied, saluted again, and left ICU.

Tucker was trying very hard not to laugh. "That's quite enough from _you_, Commander!" Reed snapped irritably, "Trip, you're making me look like an ineffective officer in front of my brother and my personnel‑‑"

"‑‑No, I'm not, darlin' deares'," Commander Tucker said quietly, reached across Derek's bed, and securely grasped Malcolm Reed's shoulders, "‑‑I'm showin'em that you're Human an' _real_, not that anybody doubted it for a secon'." As Derek looked on in surprise, the Commander firmly kissed his brother above him. Malcolm seemed furious for a moment, but then his hands reached for the Commander's shoulders, as Tucker's hands draped about his brother's slender form, one hand threading through his hair, the other wrapping around his waist, but the silent moment did not last long.

His brother pulled free and pushed the Commander away. "Not on duty, Commander! That's the most important promise we gave Captain Archer! We agreed there'd be no public displays of affection, and I won't let you make me break that promise!" Malcolm shouted angrily. "Derek needs his meal more than you or I need ours!"

"‑‑I know that, Loo-tenant!" Tucker replied, "Calm down, an' get your brother's supper ready, wil'ya?!" He sat next to Derek, and clasped his hand in both of his larger, warmer ones.

Malcolm mixed the liquid ingredients and added them to the processed stew, still hot in its warming bowl, then cooled it slightly with added water to make the exact consistency of liquid to pour into Derek's esophageal tube. "Trip won't hurt you; just lean your head as far back as possible, close your eyes, and it will be over quickly." Derek nodded with difficulty, and Malcolm smiled tenderly, an expression no one had seen before‑‑except Derek and Trip Tucker.

The Commander murmured reassuringly to Derek as he sat and held him. "Keep your eyes closed, it won' seem so unsettlin'," Tucker whispered, "It's only groun'-up food, it won' hurt ya; Mal 'n' me would never let anythin' hurt you. It jus' feels disgustin' goin' down, but only b'cause ya'ain' tastin' an' chewin'‑‑"

Malcolm poured the liquid slowly, so air wouldn't get trapped in the tube and block it, or cause Derek's stomach to reject the meal and regurgitate it, which could be life-threatening in his condition. Derek squeezed his eyes tightly closed; he suffered the increasingly arousing embrace of Commander Tucker, even with the cast on the man's left arm, and he trembled with barely-contained anger and arousal, sensual heat surging through his body like phased energy oscillating in an overcharged blaster battery.

Tucker rubbed Derek's upper arms reassuringly, and carefully settled him back onto the tilted biobed. "You did good, Derek," the man murmured, "You're a real Reed, no doubt about it."

He was unaware of everything until Malcolm gently stroked his cheek. "Derek? Derek, that was everything, you were wonderful‑‑" he opened his eyes in surprise. Malcolm's voice caught, "‑‑You are wonderfully strong, and do not let anyone tell you otherwise," he said and sniffed once. "I'm sorry I can't stay longer, but I have to return to the Armoury to complete‑‑" Derek's trembling right hand grabbed his brother's uniform, and he angrily jabbed his left index finger at the cart.

Tucker laughed raucously. "Well, _someone_ has voiced his opinion, Loo-tenant!" he chuckled, " 'Sides, Phlox is right on the other side of the door, scoldin' Crewman Gerrold for keepin' him from gettin' in here to yell at me, an' I'm sure the Doc would _love_ to hear you plannin' to skip a meal‑‑"

"You wouldn't dare‑‑" Malcolm hissed, but Derek yanked on his sleeve again, pointing at his sandwich again.

"I don' need to, Mal," Trip chuckled, "your brother will watch ya from now on."

Malcolm bristled and blushed furiously. He looked down at the sandwich; ham, cheese, narrow strips of American bacon, lettuce, and sliced tomato were piled high between three slices of toasted bread. "Hmm, I suppose I _am_ hungry, after all," he said and reached for a fussy-cut quarter of the sandwich.

Commander Tucker made sure that his best friend and true love finished his meal before he released Derek's hand, stood and walked around the biobed, kissed Malcolm, his love‑‑and grabbed his own bottle of beer. "You make sure y'only work a half extra shift, or I'll sen' the Cap'n down ta chase ya outta th' Armoury," he murmured as he nuzzled Reed's neck.

"Get out, you, and go eat your own dinner," Malcolm replied without heat, smiling.

Tucker leaned over Derek and placed a warm, rough hand on his cheek. "You keep your brother in line, buddy," the Commander chuckled and kissed his brow, and Derek's eyes widened.

"Stop teasing my brother, Commander!" Malcolm exclaimed, "You're frightening him and your behavior is inappropriate!"

"No, it ain'," Tucker replied, "I hope we're gonna be as close frien's as you an' me are."

"We're _lovers_, Trip," Malcolm whispered sharply, "That's completely different!"

"He's your brother, Mal, him an' me oughtta be real close frien's b'cause'a'you."

"We will discuss this issue at another time, Commander," Malcolm growled; Tucker rolled his eyes; "Will you get back to your own bed?! You're becoming a bad influence!"

"Jus' remember darlin' deares'," the Commander chuckled, "I hate Sickbay as much as you do, so you're _my_ bad influence!" And the man waved at Derek and sauntered out of the ICU chamber, swigging his beer as he went through the door.

Malcolm gasped, folded his arms on Derek's biobed, and dropped his head upon them. His shoulders shook. Derek feared his brother had been disrespected by his crewman or insulted by his superior officer. He stroked his brother's hair, smelled smoke, patted Malcolm's shoulder, then tugged his sleeve when he didn't get a response. Malcolm sat up, and Derek saw he'd been smothering his laughter, not revealing his weakness. "I'm sorry, Derek, it's been a long day, and it's not over yet," he said, "I swear, everyone aboard this ship has misguided good intentions to help me, and sometimes the nonstop cheeriness drives me barmy!"

Derek smelled something sweet, cold, and enticing on the food cart; he tugged on his brother's sleeve until Malcolm turned, and he kept pointing at his dinner tray. "What?" his brother frowned. "Oh, you can smell _that_?! It's pineapple, a tropical fruit from Earth; Chef made pineapple sorbet for me. We have a good chef aboard _Enterprise_; he makes very good food. When you're able to eat, and Phlox says your digestive system is healthy enough, I'll have you try it; I think you'll like it as much as I do."

Derek used both of his hands to turn Malcolm to his pineapple sorbet, and, unsurprisingly, there was a knock on the door shortly after Reed piled everything back on the cart. "Did you finish your dinner, Lieutenant?" Gerrold asked his commanding officer.

"Yes, Gerrold," Reed answered peevishly, "Are you now on the 'don't-let-Lieutenant-Reed-miss-meals' team?"

"Didn't you know, sir? That's everyone's favorite hobby aboard ship," he replied earnestly. Malcolm laughed as raucously as Commander Tucker did earlier. "‑‑Oh, and Chef said he's making Hawaiian teriyaki hamburgers with grilled pineapple for the midnight snack‑‑and he expects you to be first in line!" he saluted again, quite a bit more cheekily this time, and left ICU with the Galley cart.

Derek made sure the Security crewman was gone and Malcolm had returned to his side before he tugged on his sleeve again; when his brother turned, he pointed to the direct draw padd on the counter. Malcolm brought it to him and placed pillows under his arm and on his torso to hold it up. ___/ /_ Yr militia respects you, _/ /_ he wrote, ___/ /_ They care bout you and the Commandr. You have thr trust n loyalty, n they kno they can trust you not to betray them._/ /_ Then, Derek held up his hand, brought it up to the intubation filter mask, and then touched his brother's hair. ___/ /_ Why smell strong smoke?_/ /_ he scrawled and tried to frown at his brother.

"Oh, you mean the smoke?" Malcolm said, and Derek tried to nod. "Some cables overloaded and burned on the Bridge during the attack; Life Support fans took care of the smoke. I had some problems with my Bridge station, but I repaired them quickly." He lowered his head for a moment, then looked up again at his brother. "I have to return to the Armoury and examine the damage and how long repairs will take. The long-range scanner at the ship's bow was hit and it's out of calibration; I think the attackers did it so they could return and we couldn't detect them until it's too late. I don't know if I'll get back to see you before you fall asleep, so let me say good night and sleep peacefully now." Malcolm hugged his brother, gripped his hands tightly, stroked his face, and kissed his brow before he dimmed the lights and left.

The alien doctor checked him briefly before letting him settle down and fall asleep. Some hours later, how much later he didn't know, Derek felt someone climb into bed next to him. The scent of smoke wasn't nearly as strong as it was earlier, and he knew it was his brother who tucked in the power blanket and held him, his head on Malcolm's shoulder. Soon, his breathing changed, and Derek realized that Malcolm had fallen asleep. He held his brother's right hand in both of his and also fell asleep.

Captain Archer‑‑and Porthos‑‑visited Sickbay very late that night. "Trip, how _do_ you get into these situations?"

"Hey, I do whatever I hafta t'take care of my engine," Tucker replied, "An' don' you go wakin' Mal up; he's been on duty all day, an' he kept me in the loop 'bout the long range scanner repairs," he whispered loudly.

Doctor Phlox joined them. "Captain Archer, Mister Tucker really _does_ need to rest‑‑"

"You won' make Mal leave Derek t'night, wil'ya, Doc?" Tucker asked, "I know we agreed not to sleep here, but this wasn' a usual day‑‑"

"‑‑Phlox, let Malcolm stay with Derek just this once, since he's so tired," Archer said.

"Mister Reed has been very busy today, and I _am_ concerned about smoke inhalation, since his Bridge station was the most affected," the Denobulan doctor replied.

"You can examine him tomorrow morning," the captain replied, "his health is more important than reaching his duty station on time, so he can't dodge you. I'll call him here tomorrow to tell him to behave for you. Trip, get well, and don't give Phlox any trouble. Good night, all," he left with a wave, smothering a yawn, with Porthos dancing about his legs.  
*****


End file.
